Most Loyal
by Darkglare
Summary: Severus Snape, DH survival, magical mpreg not done through physical means/sex
1. Chapter 1

During November 2011, I was working on my NaNo novel and saw Deathly Hallows Part II. I was no longer thinking about my NaNo novel, and 53,000 words (which exceeds the 50k needed in November) just showed up in the midst of my story that was HP fan fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Severus Snape, DH survival, magical mpreg (not done through physical means/sex)

Obviously I needed to refer to Deathly Hallows for plot to start this tale. Chapter 32, The Elder Wand and Chapter 33, The Prince's Tale was used for the scene in the Shrieking Shack. So you'll recognize JKR's in here.

Most Loyal

**Chapter 1**

"Look … at ... me."

There was a blinding flash of light and a burst of song. The three of them blinked the afterimage away, and saw a phoenix sitting upon Snape's chest, its head bent low over the wounds on Snape's neck.

"Fawkes?" Harry asked. It looked remarkably like Prof. Dumbledore's familiar, but he disappeared after the funeral last year, when Dumbledore's body was entombed.

Snape muttered, "Supposed to stay hidden, you dunderheaded bird," as he revived, not knowing whether to be pleased or not. He was supposed to die. Probably painfully, and if his killers were not pressed for time, humiliatingly. This dunderheaded, misguided nuisance of a bird disobeyed his strictest order to now be the only thing that cared that Severus Snape lived, besides those that schemed his painful humiliation.

"But that's Fawkes," Ron stated.

"No shit," replied an improving Snape, annoyed by the inane comment. How many other phoenixes did they see at Hogwarts?

"But how?" Hermione queried, verbalizing the question the two boys could not.

"Yet another serious miscalculation on Dumbledore's part. Fawkes is now my familiar since he considered me to be the most loyal to his old master," Snape replied, pulling himself into a sitting position.

"You?" Harry practically spat.

"Yes, I know. Not very reassuring."

"Why you?" Harry could not believe it.

"You have my memories. There's a pensieve still in the headmaster's office. Fawkes can take us there quickly. We can also question the old fool's portrait since what he told me was not heartening."

"What did he tell you?"

Snape shrugged and said, "I'd rather you heard it from him. You do realize I thought I was dying, so not all of those memories are still relevant to the current situation, but you can still look at them all, Potter."

"That's mighty big of you," Harry answered.

Ignoring the boy's rudeness, Snape inquired, "Are we using the phoenix to get into the castle? I'm now wanted dead by both sides so I will not be able to escort you by foot."

Now that Snape was undoubtedly healed, Harry did not mind the sound of everyone wanting him dead. However, Snape had information, and he wondered how he tricked Fawkes into becoming loyal to him.

Suddenly a high, cold voice could be heard echoing off the walls and floor, "You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

"Don't listen to him," urged Ron.

"We should go back to the castle. There's one hour to prepare," Snape suggested.

"It'll be all right. Let's get back to the castle, if he's gone to the forest we'll need to think of a new plan -" insisted Hermione.

"Fawkes," Snape called.

Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak. He may not trust Snape, but Fawkes would not hurt them. The idea of getting more information from Dumbledore's portrait was enticing. He was not sure what was in Snape's memories. If he believed he was dying, Snape would aid or hinder him? Was he so skilled at occlumency that he could tamper with his memories, like Slughorn had, in such a short amount of time? For all Harry knew, it could be the memory of every insult Snape had inflicted upon him since they met.

Once all four of them had a hand on Fawkes, there was a flash. It was unlike apparition. Harry's body felt like it was made of light, rather than squeezed through a tube.

He frowned; this was not the headmaster's office. They were in a circular bedroom with a large bed, and not much else besides an ornate ceiling exhibiting the stars above. There was nothing lit within the room, but a wide bank of windows were behind the low bed. Harry pointed his wand at Snape and asked, "Where are we?"

"My bedroom is above the office," Snape replied, taking out his own wand and walking to the door. "_H__omenum revelio. _It's empty."

Snape descended first, and muttered, "Perhaps he'll return by the time you are done."

Dumbledore's frame was directly behind the headmaster's chair and was currently empty, along with all the others.

"The pensieve's where you remember it, and I've warded the door so no one can enter. I am going to change so I don't smell like werewolf bait."

"Change?" Ron asked in disbelief. Either Snape was helping them and should stay and help them, or he was up to something. Personally, he felt Snape was up to something.

"Go with him, Ron," Hermione instructed.

"What?"

"You're a boy, or I'd go."

Ron made a face and said, "Uh ..." Watching Snape undress?

"Fine," was all Snape said as he went back up the spiraling metal staircase.

"Harry, the memories. We need as much information as we can get," urged Hermione.

Harry hesitated. What if this was a trick? But there was Fawkes, and Snape was too close to death earlier for him to have planned it, wasn't he? Voldemort did want Snape dead. Harry felt that very clearly. That was the only certain thing at this point.

Ron followed Snape up the stairs. He better not turn on a light, or strut around in the buff letting his … his thing flap around. Years of Charlie, then Seamus, had not made Ron concede total nudity was a necessity. He did not live in a quidditch locker room. It might be all right for girls because they obviously had constrictive undergarments, and needed to let their skin breathe as part of a proper beauty regimen. He really should not be thinking of girls while spending time with Snape. This was sick, and he was going to tell Hermione about how dumb this was as soon as they were out of mortal peril. What if he was permanently blinded? He'd never play keeper again.

Snape moved across the room in the near darkness and opened the closet. Since he had no variety among his clothing, it was simple to pick out what he needed. Weasley had followed him across the room. What did the red-headed pillock want to see? There was no secret drawer of pink undergarments, or whatever else the moronic Gryffindors thought up about him.

"Are you going to follow me into the loo too?"

"Uh ..."

"I can leave my wand here. However, it's unlikely to appreciate you touching it."

Ron's lip curled. Percy's gittish wand was the same way, but Ron figured Snape's would be more painful. Harry and Hermione were counting on him, and Snape was not someone to trust. "Perhaps I could take a look?"

Snape rolled his eyes and flicked on the lavatory light, blinding Ron as the white light hit the shiny white tiles. Weasley made it so easy for others to tease him about his poor family. This was the appropriate time for a taunt about him being gobsmacked by the sight of indoor plumbing. Unlike Dumbledore, Snape's water closet had no rubber ducks, little boats, an odd fountain of a little boy taking a piss, a large magazine rack full of _Quiddlers_, _Witch Weekly_, or knitting periodicals next to the throne-like, padded and heated commode, an entire bank of taps on both the sink and tub, a bubbling device in the corner to give the room even more ambiance, or piped in chamber music.

Ron didn't know what he expected, but white on white, instead of cobwebs, chains and gargoyle-headed taps would be more like it. The only thing Snape-ish was a low long table with a couple cauldrons simmering.

"Acceptable?"

"Yeah," Ron said, still blinking away some remaining spots from his eyes. Git could have warned him.

"Is it allowable to close the door over, or do you want to watch?"

Horrified by the very thought, Ron snapped, "Just make it quick." To punctuate his reluctance to see anything, he turned with confidence to ensure that Snape's wand was still where he put it down on the bed. Good. Or was it? Was that really his wand, or a fake? Was he really still in the bathroom? Ron suddenly thought, fearful of being tricked, turning in place towards the door. The crack was dark because Snape turned the light back off, but water was running. Then the sound of water stopped, and there was some noise … what was it? It was soft. Ron tilted his head in frustration outside the door trying to place it. Harry and Hermione were counting on him. What if Snape was not even in there anymore, but downstairs finishing them off with his real wand, or a spare? Slicing off George's ear was the least of what that bastard was capable of.

Ron took a deep breath, steeled himself and shouldered the door open while turning the light back on. Snape was standing in the middle of the room, with his hands on the buttons of a white dress shirt that he was buttoning from the bottom to the top when he was interrupted.

Letting out the breath that he had been holding, Ron was relieved. Snape had trousers on, and even had on an undershirt. That was close. His hair was wet and his feet were bare, but the undoubtedly foul appendages were safely over there, rather than anywhere close to Ron's nose or eyes. Clothes and towels were on the floor, and the discarded white shirt and undershirt had a lot of red visible. Maybe Snape was right about attracting werewolves. However, that was no reason to believe a single thing he said. Sneaky lying Slytherin bastard could be playing some sick game of his own. Ron doubted he was on Voldemort's side at the moment. That almost death looked pretty convincing, and He Who Must Not Be Named would kill Snape if given another chance.

Severus barely paused to quirk an eyebrow at Weasley before resuming buttoning his shirt. After he tucked it in flat, he closed the front of his trousers and pulled the braces over his shoulders.

"If you'd like to raid my potions cabinet, go ahead, Weasley," he suggested, pointing at the large medicine cabinet. "Rather than standing around like a gormless pillock."

"Uh … could you please open it?" Ron requested. He wasn't going to fall for some booby trap or have something leap out at him. Even without a wand, Snape was still dangerous. After this whole thing was over, he'd be lucky if he only ended up in Azkaban.

"Surely. Are any of you injured?" he asked as he opened the doors.

"Maybe something for tiredness. We've had a long day … hey, you've got _felix felicis_."

"You are in luck. There are three. One for each of you."

"What about you?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"I've already given Potter the information I possess. This potion would be more useful than my physical assistance. Although I duel quite well, both sides want me dead so your own allies would slow you down with questions at the very least."

"You got Polyjuice too."

"I have a limited number of hair samples, besides the three of you. A second Potter seen obviously running for his own safety might be a good distraction for Potter to get to where he needs with fewer guards in the way, if they are chasing me."

"But our side won't know, and get distracted too."

"I agree."

"Whose hair do you have?"

"Unfortunately those willing to give me hair are mostly dead now. Though a brave Fletcher dueling instead of running could shock any opponent long enough for an advantage."

"Maybe. Do you have any of Dumbledore's hair?"

"Yes, but I have never impersonated him."

"I think that would be more shocking than Mundungus sticking around."

"Quite."

"Let me get ours together, and you can bring the polyjuice and whatever hair you have."

"I also have access to the headmaster's wardrobe. It's still here."

"Crikey. Fawkes and those robes. No one would give Harry a second glance."

"I'm not in agreement on this particular plan. Just offering the clothes. Perhaps Potter could become Dumbledore, and I transform into Potter? The Dark Lord knows his dueling style too well." Severus also knew that Dumbledore meant for Potter to die. That's why he wanted Potter to talk to the bloody portrait because he did not have the details of why it would be a necessity.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 2**

Harry emerged from the pensieve, and found himself on the floor of the headmaster's office. Still reeling from the memories he took a moment to orient himself since he had just ended with Snape leaving through that very door to deliver the sword to him.

Snape was now seated at a table, apparently drinking tea. Ron was also over there, eating. Hermione was pacing around them, noticed him and exclaimed, "Harry!"

Harry sat up and stared straight at Snape. Why couldn't anything be simple? Well, the simple part was Snape was on their side, it was the overcomplicated lies and plots within plots of the whole mess. "So … uh, did I miss anything?"

"Miss anything?" Hermione repeated. "Ron's got some crazy schemes, but we need to know what you found out, and also know what we need to do."

"I need to meet with Vo … him. That's the plan. Not mine, but Dumbledore's. It was a good idea to come here and talk to his portrait, but as we can see they've all flitted off.

"Now while I'm doing that, there's still the snake. It must be destroyed, and without the sword, I'm not sure of what can kill it. Snape?"

"Is there something special about it that a killing curse would not solve, once it's out of its magical cage?"

"Didn't you two tell him anything?" Harry asked in exasperation.

"What?" Ron proclaimed. "I thought he was just a quick way to the castle."

"He's on our side. Always has been." Harry ignored the looks on Ron's and Hermione's faces and continued, " OK, so here's the quick version, He who … well, he split his soul up with these horcrux things so there'd be a piece of him always alive. We've been destroying them so there's one in Nagini." Harry did not want to tell his friends that he was also one. Snape might be able to figure it out. He was smart. Snape also did not like the idea of Harry having to die so perhaps he might now know why. "One thing that destroys horcruxes is the Sword of Gryffindor. Another was killed with basilisk venom. Do you have anything like that?"

"_Fiendfyre_ should destroy anything."

"Uh, right," Harry agreed from recent personal experience. "You can cast that, and not kill everyone around?"

"Yes, or I wouldn't have suggested it," Severus replied. Trying to be civil to dunderheads was a real trial. If he told these nincompoops what he really thought, they'd do something even stupider. If such a thing were possible. His best chance at Potter succeeding was to stick close to him, despite the problem with Potter having to die. He glanced at Dumbledore's empty portrait in frustration.

"What …?" Hermione finally got in during the momentary silence.

Ron tried to edge her out with, "But Snape killed Dumbledore and attacked us."

"It was part of Dumbledore's plan. He was already dying from a curse, so set Snape up good with the Death Eaters to try to protect the students once he was gone."

"Huh?" Ron replied.

"But what about …?" Hermione started.

"It's an act, Hermione. He's a spy. Dumbledore's all along. That's why Fawkes went to him. So what were you guys going to do to get the snake while I'm going into the forest to meet him?"

"Well, Snape suggested you two trade places," Ron said. "He polyjuices into you, and then there's a couple you could choose from. Since You Know Who knows how you duel."

"Um, that would be good, but it has to be me that faces him … and there's a reason for that, not just that he can read my empty head like an open book."

"All right, this one might sound a bit barmy ..." Ron started.

"It's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Let me say it first, Harry hasn't heard it. Snape needs to be someone else since everyone wants him dead so uh, besides your hair or ours, Harry, he's got some of Dumbledore's. Besides Fawkes and the old headmaster's robes, I think he could be a distraction to take the attention off anything else going on."

"You mean like … back from the dead?" Harry inquired.

"Faking a death is not exactly original," Snape responded. "We'll be faking he's still alive. If Nagini is in the forest, once you two meet, the next place the Dark Lord will go with the snake would be wherever I am. He won't trust such a rumor without seeing it for himself. It might be so distracting, he'd rather deal with me before he finishes with you. I'd rather stay close to the school to use its defenses as headmaster, since my dueling does not rely on spontaneous transfigurations. The less I am engaged directly as Dumbledore, the less chance someone has of detecting that I'm a fake."

Ron added, "We've also got _felix felicis_ besides the Polyjuice, and Snape had a couple more he thought were useful."

Harry had noticed the vials, "Did someone already take the luck potion … there's only three there."

"Since I usually don't share my potions, a stock of three is more than sufficient since it is dangerous with repeated use. Seeing as you'd be unnecessarily distracted and unable to focus if something happened to your sidekicks, Potter, the three of you can have them. I can imbibe a couple of the others, once I transform into another body. It will allow me to ignore any infirmities it currently has, or mishaps that occur before I revert back to my own."

Harry glanced at his watch, then said, "Maybe you should take one of the luck potions, Snape, since the two of us know what's in store for me …"

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

With an annoyed glance at the empty portrait frame behind his desk, Snape replied, "Not necessarily. To avoid what Dumbledore surmised would be the outcome, you taking it is a priority. That is a powerful potion. A slight change in your favor may not prevent the inevitable, but the result should be more favorable to your cause."

Hesitantly, Harry asked, "Do you mean that after all this he could still …?"

"Of course he could still win," Snape snapped. Why was Potter such an optimistic, idiotic martyr?

"What aren't you telling us?"

"There's risk," Snape answered. "Potter needs to do something still, before killing the snake means anything. Dumbledore split the instructions between us."

"That is so stupid," Ron stated.

"Yeah, well … that's why Snape had the sword, I guess but … you know, I don't have time for this right now, Ron. And Hermione. You just got to trust that the information I got makes perfect sense, and that's why it needs to be me, not someone disguised as me that needs to go out there and face him. I'm counting on you to kill that snake, and Snape … I'm not too excited about a fake Dumbledore, but you can command the castle to defend who's left in it, right? They'd trust Dumbledore to do that. If it's you, you'd have to fight them off while trying to save them."

"Hmm," was all Snape said in agreement. Even with the _felix felicis_, he was not sure how Potter's absurd luck would save him if he was a horcrux. To kill the Dark Lord, Harry Potter must die.

"So what else do we have in these potions?"

"This one here," Snape said rolling it across the table towards Granger, "makes one incredibly strong. Since Granger likes punching and slapping," he ignored Granger's cry of outrage, "maybe she should take it. No one will expect it. This one protects against elements so if there is anything short of _fiendfyre_ or _glacialis totalis_, than you'll survive it. Clothes, not necessarily. I was going to take one of each, besides this one here, which is what I have leftover of the headmaster's arthritis potion."

"I can take the strength potion, Hermione," Ron commented. There were only two of each. With the luck potion, there wasn't much chance of either of them getting hit with something like _incendio_ without something putting it out.

"Maybe I should," Hermione countered. Snape was right that no one would expect her to knock the stuffing out of someone. Ron might spend time showing off, rather than being serious.

"I don't have time to wait for you two to decide," Harry countered, and grabbed one of the small, golden vials.

"What if it's ..." Hermione warned, but Harry already tilted it into his mouth … and survived, at least for now.

Snape was already summoning one of Dumbledore's more sedate robes from upstairs. The indignity of resuming his own countenance, or worse, dying while wearing one of the headmaster's masterpieces of frivolity was more than he could tolerate. And Severus Snape could obviously tolerate a lot, considering he just spent minutes of listening to the deepest minds of Gryffindor plan nothing in particular. Potter was willingly going to march off to die, and Weasley and Granger wanted to argue about who got to bend steel bars like a circus strongman.

He cast a changing charm first, then dropped a few hairs in the preprepared Polyjuice. There were enough doses for several hours in case this dragged on, he needed to draw away the Death Eaters, or he needed to make his own escape. Escape was not foremost at the moment, since Severus felt everything should be settled tonight. There was also the possibility that Potter could live and be so seriously injured that he'd need to apparate him to … somewhere. Right now, Severus was the only person capable of allowing apparition at the school. Hogwarts, the school itself, was still loyal to him.

Harry frowned. Snape was Dumbledore, but not. The blue eyes were … too intelligent? His gaze was razor sharp and penetrating. Endless, black tunnels were preferable to this.

Snape swallowed another potion, then asked, "What, Potter?" His voice was Dumbledore's but had an underlying tone that was off.

"I uh … know it's you, is all. There's something a little off."

"Coming back from the dead might change a man," Severus stated, but let his voice take on a vague distractedness.

"Better," Harry replied, and looked at the greyish blue robe. There was a purple octopus undulating along the bottom hem. "I don't think I saw Dumbledore ever wear that."

"It's his giant squid robe," was the annoyed response. "It's better than the goldfish gala with its coordinated shoes and hat."

Ron uttered, "He named them?"

"Blame _Spella Weekly _and their Britain's Best Dressed Wizard awards."

Hermione remembered that Gilderoy Lockhart was also a winner of that prestigious award. Did Dumbledore used to dress … more respectably?

Harry said, "Um, I guess I'll be going. Kill the snake when you get the chance, and keep everyone safe." The thought of tiny Teddy Lupin crossed Harry's mind. Both Remus and Tonks were somewhere in the midst of all this. Along with many other parents. How many babies were going to be orphaned, like him, tonight?

Snape drank the other potions he had already allocated for himself, in case Granger and Weasley chose to settle their dispute by each drinking the two _atlas enhancers_, and then having a pointless Gryffindor feats of strength contest or ran out to wrestle giants. He also changed his wand with a glamour so it appeared to be ivory with a spiral running its length, along with a bluish inner glow to impress the dunderheads into thinking it was magically superior. According to his old head of house, Horace Slughorn, appearances were everything. He just needed to wait to make the proper entrance, once Potter accomplished his task.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

AN: Back to Deathly Hallows Chapter 36, The Flaw in the Plan. So you'll recognize JKR's words again.

**Chapter 3**

Severus was ready for what happened next. At least he thought he was. There were too many variables. However, he was perched atop the castle wall, with omnioculars and an unconscious Yaxley with his Dark Mark exposed and ready to be exploited. He had always wanted to try some spell casting through this link. Severus could not use his own because a loyal Death Eater would never try to harm his Lord or brothers.

Predictably, the Dark Lord was not quiet about his triumph. "Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself wile you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."

An undumbledorish sneer passed over his face as he adjusted the focus on the Forbidden Forest. The Dark Lord and his followers were emerging. Nagini was no longer confined to her cage, and was draped on her master's shoulders. Searching for the 'proof', Severus found it in Hagrid's arms. Potter's body. Even knowing from Dumbledore that Potter must die did not make it seem any less wasteful. All those years of keeping him alive, for this? It seemed to make no difference if he died today, or back on Halloween, 1981.

Should he flee? There was nothing more for him to do. Potter was dead. The Dark Lord was asking those inside the castle to surrender. If they chose to give up and not fight, Severus alone could not help them.

Longbottom. What was that moron up to? He had exhibited a degree of creativity in his defiance against him in the past year, but throwing himself at the Dark Lord so his head could be set on fire? Potter moved and disappeared … Severus cast one of the nastiest Dark Arts spells through the Dark Mark. Not terrible in its overall effect, but difficult for the average wizard to counter. The only reason it was labeled as Dark Arts was its biblical scope. This should give someone near the snake the opportunity to strike, while the Dark Lord countered the effect of being turned into a pillar of salt.

Pandemonium broke out everywhere at once, and only one person was wise enough to use omnioculars to view all the action. Of course, Severus Snape would have to find the time to go back and replay it. He didn't have time for that right now because the forest erupted with creatures and a tidal wave of arrows. If Severus had known that was coming, he would not have protected the Death Eaters by transfiguring them.

Severus saw Nagini was attacked by Longbottom, of all people, who chopped its head clean off. Zooming in, it appeared that he wielded Gryffindor's sword.

The Dark Lord resumed his normal snake-like appearance. His mouth was open, but there was no _sonorus _spell for Severus to know what he was yelling. He doubted the Dark Lord was shouting confirmation that the snake was the last bit of his soul that existed outside of his physical body.

Trying to find Potter in the melee, Severus readjusted the view to pull back and see more. Thestrals and a shorter giant were under attack by other giants.

The defenders were retreating back to the castle with only a handful of Death Eaters skilled enough to perform a wandless self-transfiguration to follow. Unfortunately, Bellatrix was one of them. None of them thought to help out their still frozen fellows either. How predictable.

Spinning the dial to zoom in, Severus placed his other hand on the castle wall and informed the structure where to turn the cobbles into a vicious and hungry liquid. The Dark Lord levitated and looked around. Severus knew he was sensing something unseen and unknown was working against him. The pillars of salt were no fluke. The ground choosing to turn to quicksand at his follower's feet wasn't either. Even if he only cared about himself, the Dark Lord was not entirely witless and saved one person from going under, Bellatrix. With annoyance, Severus considered Bellatrix was as lucky as Potter when it came to escaping death.

He saw Lucius and Narcissa crossing also. Rather than waving their wands, they were holding hands. Severus wavered a moment in indecision then decided to let them pass.

Concerned that the Dark Lord might think to resurrect his frozen troops, now that the sharper and mobile ones were eliminated, he concentrated on an illegal spell and altered it to target the magic in Dark Marks, using Yaxley's fine example of the salty version, and braced himself since he could not move far from Yaxley and still use him for the spell. Weather magic may be illegal in Britain, but that did not necessarily mean that no one knew it.

There was only one loud crack of thunder as everyone was blinded by the sudden forked lightning. It was another test like the salt pillar transfiguration. The only difference was it effected both sides equally. Who knew how to rectify their vision with a rare charm, or who was left blinking away the absolute yellowed, glowing whiteness followed by bright spots that occluded their vision for long, valuable minutes? The advantage went to the defenders since many had reached the castle before the attackers, and they were inclined to help each other.

Severus would have been able to see, since he knew the charm, if he hadn't been so close to Yaxley that he too had been struck. Proof against elemental spells is fine and dandy, but getting struck by lightning still takes a toll. Yaxley and his salinated comrades weren't as fortunate to have protected themselves against such an unlikely event so all that was left was the charred and smoking spots where they once stood.

Voldemort did not know such a worthless spell, but he was able to improvise one for himself and Bellatrix. None of his other Death Eaters were nearby. Some of his other followers were like Greyback and Thicknesse were visible, so he restored their sight too. They were useless without it, and Voldemort planned on putting an end to even the slightest inkling of resistance tonight. If he needed to crush these under his bare foot to set an example, so be it. Dumbledore was dead. Potter was dead. No one stood in his way of ruling Britain, or at least for very long. He tried to show them mercy, but they threw it back in his face. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. Lord Voldemort generously gave and he could also take away.

Pius Thicknesse blinked. He was at Hogwarts? What was he doing here? Wasn't that He Who Must Not Be Named standing right over there? What in Merlin's name was going on? Wait … he was Minister of Magic and publicly talked complete lunacy … he had been _imperiused_. Damn it all. And damn Yaxley to whatever hell he belonged in. Well, he had his wand in hand and his mind back.

Someone grabbed Thicknesse's arm and growled, "Move it, ya lump. We're going in, and their blood will run in all its sweetness."

He was horrified to have Fenrir Greyback, of all the disgusting and reviled wizards there were, address him and furthermore he was licking his lips in anticipation. The students. "_Stupefy. Incarcerous._" Where were the aurors, Magical Law Enforcement, heck, anyone from the Ministry? He didn't care if it was the maintenance wizards or the blokes that weighed wands. This was all-out war.

Obviously, others understood that, since Thicknesse saw centaurs galloping past, and was that Horace Slughorn wearing emerald green satin pajamas? He followed the crowd inside, trying to discern who was the enemy other than Voldemort and his whore, Bellatrix Lestrange. Some of these people could be _imperiused _ as he was. Wait, there was Kingsley.

He ran after him, calling, "Shacklebolt. I'm no longer under the _imperius."_

Kingsley Shacklebolt turned, gave Pius Thicknesse a good look, then said, "About time you came to your senses, Minister."

"I'm pretty sure it was Yaxley."

"Something wiped out most of the real Death Eaters. We still have a few running about and then legions of his followers to contend with. Potter's dead."

"Potter?" Pius repeated, distraught that the one person who surely could kill Voldemort was gone. What were they to do? He bolstered himself and exclaimed, "What are we standing around jawing for, Shacklebolt? Let's get the bastard."

"Quite," Kingsley replied, glad that his old colleague had returned.

Meanwhile, house elves were pouring out of the kitchen waving sharp objects. Harry Potter, under his invisibility cloak, was reaching the Great Hall in pursuit of Voldemort, Narcissa and Lucius were screaming for Draco, and Severus Snape sat up and stared at the smoking ends of what was left of Dumbledore's beard. He smirked at the dream of doing this to the real man's luxurious growth of hair.

Two mesmerizing duels broke out. Voldemort was engaged with Slughorn, McGonagall and Flitwick, while Bellatrix was fighting against Ginny, Luna and Hermione. Molly Weasley claimed Bellatrix as hers, and took her on single-handedly, surprising everyone, except Arthur of course.

Voldemort screamed when Bellatrix fell, her mouth still stretched in a grin but the insane glint gone from her eyes. He cast something which knocked back all three of his opponents, sending them flying through the air, and turned on Molly Weasley.

Harry yelled, "_Protego!" _ to shield Mrs. Weasley, and then pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, exposing himself.

The crowd was shocked. Harry Potter was alive. Voldemort and Harry began circling each other as the volume grew, and then suddenly everything went quiet as there was a flash of light and Albus Dumbledore and Fawkes appeared next to him. Jaws dropped.

Forgetting himself, Harry asked, "What happened to you?"

With a slight shrug, Dumbledore light heartedly replied, "I was caught up with reducing the odds. I see I have not arrived not a moment too late."

"No, I mean your beard is almost gone."

"Ah, Harry," Severus replied, using his first name in such a convincing manner that Harry's chest tightened, "There is nothing so agonizing to the fine skin of vanity as the application of a rough truth. "

"Huh?"

"That's Bulwer-Lytton, you unread ignoramus. I was struck by lightning because I was touching Yaxley when I unleashed nature upon them."

"You saved me!" Pius Thicknesse cried out. He had not been a fan of Dumbledore's until this moment. If it weren't for him, he could be cavorting in the blood of children with Greyback right now.

Voldemort took the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's tomb. Perhaps it was a fake. Perhaps this wand was a fake too. He had come too far to let doubt set in now. He'd kill them both. Personally, so this time there would be no mistake.

Voldemort called out, "Tired of pulling the strings from behind the curtain, Dumbledore?"

"Don't you talk to him like that," Harry responded.

"Shut up, whelp, and go back to sniveling behind the skirts of greater men."

"Manners, Tom," admonished Dumbledore. Severus was unsure of how the Dark Lord would be defeated. Why wasn't Potter dead? Did he still need to really die, or had something changed when the Dark Lord believed him dead? His very presence as Dumbledore was a distraction. Would that be enough to aid Potter in whatever he needed to do?

"And you," Voldemort sneered at Dumbledore, "all your planning. I am the master of the Elder Wand now. I killed Snape three hours ago."

Harry laughed, "You got it wrong. That wand won't work properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore because he had been Dumbledore's all along. The headmaster's plan worked perfectly."

Severus stopped the white bushy eyebrows from shooting up his forehead, or the thin upper lip's corner from raising in a sneer. Perfect plan, his arse. When was everyone going to realize that Gryffindors told the most outrageous lies?

"He ..." Voldemort stopped. Albus Dumbledore was standing before him and calmly smiling. Dumbledore had another wand in his hand. It was white and glowed with an inner power. The opposite of the Death Stick that he held, and still did not master.

"Draco Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore, and I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I am the true master of the Elder Wand," Harry stated.

Voldemort knew Potter was lying. This was a trick. Why would Dumbledore allow himself to lose his hold over the Elder Wand? No. Never. He'd prove it by cutting Potter down. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

There was a loud boom, the two combatants were swept up in a golden, flickering light as their spells met, and the wand Voldemort had been holding flew up into the air towards Harry. The spectators were in awe since the result was like the perfect ending to a heroic tale. Harry deftly caught the second wand in his left hand, and the bad guy fell backwards to the ground dead, leaving behind a pathetic looking corpse.

Severus felt a sharp stabbing pain in his, or Dumbledore's, lower abdomen and before he could bring his hand to the area, fell unconscious with a barely audible grunt amidst the cheers of jubilation and the rush of everyone trying to reach Harry. Only Fawkes prevented him from getting trampled, by perching atop him, spreading his wings and challenging everyone to stand back.

From between Ron and Hermione, and Ginny, Neville and Luna, hearing the odd noises Fawkes was making, Harry asked as he pushed through, "What happened?"

Hagrid was on his knees wailing next to Dumbledore's body, "No, not again."

"Um, Hagrid, we didn't mean to hurt you like this," Harry said sympathetically, while patting his large shoulder, "but that's not really Dumbledore. It was a trick for Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Not to be mean to you, or everyone that admired Dumbledore. What happened?"

"He just fell," Hagrid replied. "After I saw a pink light flash from Him," he said with a head jerk towards Voldemort's corpse, "to the headmaster's tummy. Or whoever this really is. It's just seeing him again laying dead."

"He's not dead, Hagrid," Hermione explained, already observing the slow rise and fall or respiration. She'd take a closer look, but Fawkes looked a bit dangerous to them all, except Hagrid. "Can you get Fawkes to let someone take a look?"

"Hm, aw, Fawkes is just protecting … wait a minute, if this is not Dumbledore, than what is Fawkes doing here?"

"It's all a long story, Hagrid, and if he did not need to hide that he was the most loyal person to Dumbledore, we would have seen Fawkes sooner."

There was a murmur of speculation. Who was more loyal to Albus Dumbledore than Harry Potter?

Hagrid sniffled then pulled out a large, stained handkerchief and blew. "Phoenixes are strange. Usually they go back to the wild. Not even spouses are devout enough to gain their trust all the time." Hagrid scanned the crowd – McGonagall, Slughorn, Flitwick, Harry, himself … Hagrid hated these kind of thinking puzzles, and he hadn't even started having a drink or two yet to calm his nerves after the long night he had had.

"Whoever it is, has my thanks," Pius Thicknesse announced. "I must have seemed the biggest, ruddiest fool while that … well, I mean it. If he or she got rid of most of the Death Eaters saving our lives, and freeing those of us that were under _imperius_ so we could help you lot out at the last minute …"

"That's good to hear, but we need to make sure he lives to appreciate your feelings, Minister," Harry explained. He suspected his tune would drastically change once he found out who his savior was. "Hagrid, can't you get Fawkes to let someone in there? And does anyone know a spell that sounds like what Hagrid described … a pink light?"

Hermione was already furiously thinking. She had spotted the Malfoys, all together sitting at a table. None of them was affected. It wasn't targeted at Death Eaters. Just Dumbledore or Snape. Harry had been standing closer. If she could think of why target him, then maybe she'd have a clue as to the type spell. Pink … that was an odd color. She had seen pink spells, but they were for girl things like cramp relief or the time she tried out a contraception charm on herself, just in case she needed it one day. And Voldemort, Dumbledore and Snape were definitely not female.

The adult females all wore a puzzled look, but none blurted out anything ridiculous. Until Luna Lovegood, suggested thoughtfully, "Maybe he's pregnant?"

Kingsley, as an auror, knew the kind of illegal spell she meant to continue on a family when the last member died. "I thought He was interested in keeping himself alive, not passing along his legacy to children?" By his reckoning, Voldemort was seventy or eighty years old. If he was interested in that sort of thing, he should have been working on it while he was alive. Impregnating someone who commanded Fawkes' loyalty after Dumbledore's death was the most ill thought out way of getting an heir for a dark wizard.

Arthur answered, "It lasts for generations so he may not have cast it. He was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin."

"What?" Harry asked. Legacy, children, generations, descendants ... and Snape was male. Only Luna would suggest something so daft. Harry hadn't checked personally, but uh, Harry was willing to swear that Snape was a guy. Besides, Ron probably would know better. It may take a while till that was ready for joking around with, but it was filed away as future taunting material now that he and his best mate had survived. Though Snape surviving would be good too. There were too many dead in here. He saw earlier, but … Harry really was too sensitive to this sort of thing. He hated it. He hated what Voldemort had done.

As a head of house, Minerva had frequently cast this charm to put to rest any doubts, and she was not afraid of Fawkes. It was scurrilous scuttlebutt to speculate about such a subject when the possible victim was laying here … oh … well, um, that answered that, but who was she? Minerva thought she knew Albus well enough that if he had some woman he saw and that obviously meant so much to him that Fawkes was fond of her, that she'd have some inkling that she existed. Was Albus leading a secret life? And for this spell to work, how much younger than Albus was she?

She had been leaning over the person, trying to ascertain if there were any injuries, when the blue eyes opened and whoever it was, knew her, since the first question was simply, "Prof. McGonagall?" Had this person been a student of hers? The rutting, old goat.

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," was the reply, and the person tried to sit up to look downwards. Minerva tried to assist, but whoever it was flinched and Fawkes snapped at her with his beak. A very odd look crossed Albus Dumbledore's face, directed at her. It seemed familiar.

Harry fell to his knees, ignoring Fawkes' jab at him, and grabbed an arm. "Are you okay?"

"Stop molesting me," Severus complained. He was sore, but nothing truly painful.

"When Voldemort," there was an uncharacteristic flinch from non-Dumbledore, but Harry continued, "died, you got hit with some spell from him and passed out."

"Luckily famous Harry Potter was here to hold my hand while I recovered," was the sarcastic reply.

"Cut that out. I know you don't mean that."

"I think I do. Get your smelly hands off of me."

Harry smiled, kept his hands were they were, and asked, "So … you're better than?"

"Don't you ever quit fishing for compliments, you fat-headed, conceited, ill-mannered weed? Yes. Yes. Whatever magic you performed has left me miraculously recovered. Harry Potter is my hero. Now shove off to go spread your famous good cheer and concern elsewhere while doing cartwheels on your ridiculous Firebolt."

Other than Ron and Hermione, some of the group surrounding this tableau were suspicious of the real identity of Dumbledore's most loyal friend. However, it was soon cleared up as Harry threw his arms around the person and exclaimed, "You are my hero, Severus Snape."

"I find you repulsive, Potter. And stop drooling on this robe. It was probably prohibitively expensive."

The name of Snape was repeated by a crowd of gobsmacked witches and wizards before Kingsley Shacklebolt said, "You should come back to the Ministry for questioning, Snape."

Pius Thicknesse was already considering his retraction. He was _imperiused _to claim he was no longer under the _imperio _curse? No one would believe that.

"You guys don't get it. Snape was always on our side. He was working for Dumbledore. Dumbledore was dying from a curse that Voldemort put on a ring, and it was Snape that kept him from dying then, but it was slowly spreading. Remember his hand? Anyway, Dumbledore planned his death with Snape. And then left information with me, and information with Snape on how to defeat Voldemort. Snape also gave me Gryffindor's sword a couple months ago to defeat something of Voldemort's, but I didn't know it at the time. And he was here at the school to keep the students safe from people like the Carrows, but he couldn't do too good a job, or Voldemort would have tried to kill him sooner and then he wouldn't have been able to tell me anything," Harry explained in a rush. If he could understand it, everyone else should be able to.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a solicitous voice commented, "I would be intensely interested in hearing the whole and exclusive story."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and others stared in shock at Rita Skeeter. Unbelievable.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 4**

Harry was suspicious of the Ministry. Not necessarily just Shacklebolt. All of them would want a piece of Snape. Would he even survive till a trial, or would they just throw him in Azkaban, like they had with Sirius? Harry had all the proof they needed. He knew the whole story. There was Skeeter, at the very worst. Harry had his own story. Tell Snape's, then wait till it was published without major alteration before telling his own? He had to be smart about this. People's lives were still at stake.

Of course, Snape did not care about what Potter was babbling about. Not everyone would agree with him that Potter was acting demented, or more so. Not content that the Dark Lord was vanquished, the big-headed savior wanted to rescue someone else. With the polyjuice wearing off, claiming Potter was insane was not working. No one listened to Severus Snape. He had brazenly told the truth so many times just because no one believed a word he said.

There was one current truth. He was still headmaster. Hogwarts recognized him, and Severus was gifted with speaking to the actual school since he had a lot of practice over the past months of sitting in the headmaster's tower, wondering when this battle was going to occur. There had been enough hints that Hogwarts would be the location.

No one here cared what he had to say about the dead, dying or merely injured. He could start on repairing the building's structure, before the Ministry reorganized and sent him to Azkaban. Minerva, at least, would realize it was him. He liked his colleague, even though she was a Gryffindor. Probably the only sane Gryffindor in the history of the house. She could deal with the people, and he could work on the building until they made him stop.

Potter was still lurking around, and sometimes he thought he saw Granger out of the corner of his eye. Why wasn't she giving Weasley a pity shag, Potter a victory shag, or whatever those three got up to after camping in a tent for months?

Getting into the bowels of the castle was easy enough. He sensed where he needed to go to focus everything properly. When Severus arrived, he reached down to remove his shoes, but found he was already barefoot. At what point had that happened? He did need to be in skin contact with the castle, and had used his hand against the stone earlier. Severus had considered going bare foot, since Dumbledore was a known eccentric, but he didn't remember taking his boots off. Maybe he forgot things when he was struck by lightning or got knocked on his arse by Voldemort. If only he could forget waking up to find Potter clinging to him like a witless boob.

Once he concentrated, he put Potter from his mind, and the rabble upstairs that McGonagall was probably efficiently sorting, and seeped his consciousness into the structure to begin the repairs.

*** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts ***

Minerva was exhausted. Dawn had long passed by the time she could stand no longer and went to bed. As her eyes closed, her mind turned to Severus. Harry was undoubtedly correct, but where had Severus gone? Did the Ministry already have him? Had he decided to escape? Did someone else waylay him?

When she awoke in the late afternoon, Minerva felt every one of years. Mustering herself, she rose and returned to the Great Hall first, and then worked her way outward, sorting students, family and visitors to the school.

She was suddenly struck by a curious thought. This morning, the castle had extensive damage in the Entrance Hall, outside and some hallways that saw vicious dueling with the invaders. For the most part, it was now repaired.

With continuous distractions and people to aid, or get moving on their way, it took Minerva hours to get answers. Argus was tidying with a broom. The kitchen house elves did not know of any of the other house elves being directed to make repairs. Hagrid admitted he moved some large items this morning for safety's sake, but when he escorted Minerva back to those areas, a door was repaired and hanging properly on its hinges, rubble was cleared, an archway was back to its original shape, and a stone stairwell was intact.

Not sure when the castle last got damaged in such a manner, Minerva headed up to the headmaster's office to inquire of the portraits. Although they technically answered to the current headmaster, they were partial to sharing reminisces with staff willing to listen. At the very worst, Albus would have something to say.

The griffin did not stand aside when Minerva gave the password. Had Severus changed it? Maybe to bar entrance to the Carrows and whoever they shared it with. What would he have changed it to? His choices so far had no particular pattern. Only one had been an herb or potion ingredient. One week was an obscure Latin quote. She let out a long sigh and looked around for inspiration.

A grating sound interrupted Minerva's thoughts. She looked and saw the griffin's head had tilted to one side. It opened its beak but no speech erupted.

"Will you let me in, please?"

The beak closed, the head righted itself momentarily before the head stretched out on the neck towards her and the head tilted in the other direction.

"I am Minerva McGonagall, and I am requesting admittance to the headmaster's office. Please step aside."

The griffin returned to its normal form and the entrance to the office opened in the expected manner.

She called, "Severus?" as she entered. If he was hiding in here, she did not want to be the victim of hex first, ask questions later.

"Minerva?" Albus' portrait asked from behind the desk.

"Albus?"

"Severus has not been here since he left with Harry. We've seen Harry through other frames in the castle, but not Severus."

"Would you know if he's … deceased?"

"There would be a change in the feel of this office so no, he's alive."

Minerva's lips thinned as she thought. Severus has not been here, but did he take anything with him to indicate he planned on not coming back? As she looked, she noticed the pensieve and it was not empty.

"Has anyone else come in here, Albus?"

"I do not suppose you mean house elves or ghosts?"

"No."

"Than no one. How did you gain entrance, Minerva?"

"Perhaps Severus trusts me," she answered. More to justify her curiosity, than a real answer. That pensieve was left for a reason. It would be better if she looked at it first with an objective eye, than someone who was close minded. The most sensible Gryffindor Severus Snape had ever met could also be impulsive. Minerva McGonagall leaned forward to view the memories left behind.

She emerged disoriented, and stopped the urge to rush to the door to call Severus back.

"Minerva, those were not for you," Albus chided.

"Potter mentioned all this, so it's not a shock to me," she replied. Harry wisely left out the part about his mother. That would be difficult for most to understand. Minerva did. Mac was gone over fifty years now. Brave, young, strapping, a broad-shouldered highlander who could really pull off a kilt … their time together had been so short. Their honeymoon was only entering its second year, and he was gone. Minerva's world was destroyed. Her old teacher, Albus Dumbledore, suggested she try her hand filling in for him at Hogwarts while he went to the continent to deal with Grindelwald. Temporary. It was supposed to be temporary … looking up at his portrait, Minerva asked, "Do you purposely seek out people who …" Was Severus really similar to her? He chose the memories for Potter so if there was a time that he and Lily Evans … no, they were still young when that falling out occurred, and it was not the fight between two teenagers who were physically involved. Minerva had witnessed a wide variety of those. Usually there was some reference to it.

Minerva sat down and called a house elf for tea. She could wait for Severus. Frankly, she needed to get off her feet. Minerva had been on them all afternoon and well into the night again.

Blinking at the harsh sunlight, Minerva stared at the tea set before her, with her barely touched cup full of cold tea. Throwing off the blanket covering her, and looking at the pillows arranged behind her, she asked, "Did Severus ..."

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus burst into open laughter.

Albus glared at his predecessor, before explained, "House elves, Minerva. I'm sure if Severus saw you in discomfort, he would have acted appropriately."

"There's been no change then?"

"Here? No."

"I meant to ask, the castle was damaged, but could it be repairing itself?"

Armando Dippet said, "At the headmaster's direction, it can. Not all headmasters establish an active link with the school." He gave Albus' portrait a sly glance.

"Really, Armando, it was no big deal. I could lock the place up tighter than a drum."

Phineas Nigellus snickered, "Not so tight a Black couldn't sneak in."

"Stop it," Minerva demanded. "Do you think Severus is still in the school?"

As one, the headmasters' portraits suddenly dropped off to sleep. Dumbledore's was snoring so hard, his mustache was moving. "You are a terrible actor, Albus. I am not going to do anything to him. He got hit with a spell at the end of the fight. He does not know because he was knocked out, and they all stopped making suggestions on what it could be when his eyes opened."

A pair of blue eyes cracked open, and Albus asked, "I may be a terrible actor, but how was Severus as me?"

"He called Potter by his first name, and Harry looked ready to burst into tears. Severus was a very convincing you. You Know Who couldn't take his eyes off him."

Albus smiled, then asked, "What sort of spell?"

"It was pink, and hit him in the middle right as You Know Who died. Miss Lovegood suggested an old spell to prevent families from dying out …?"

"Oh, that's old magic. And Tom was not interested in having heirs."

"That may be neither here nor there, but I cast a quick detection charm and you or him was definitely pregnant. With all the conjecture going on, I thought the fake you was really a woman, but I don't know … I did not cast it on Severus when he resumed his normal form, but it's likely he still has it in him."

"Oh my."

"That's one way of putting it, Albus. Can the normal way be utilized to cure it?"

"Uh … Dilys, do you think like me that if something happens to the passenger in Severus, that someone else will find themselves the target of the same spell?"

Dilys Derwent's portrait was more convincing at feigning that she had awoken in surprise when Albus addressed her, "If it's that spell, Albus, tampering with it could kill him, then move on to the next host."

Minerva asked, "Why Severus? Was the polyjuice so effective it was targeted at you?"

"Well … I may like children, but I … well, I don't think I gave that sort of um … extreme action any thought, unless I … no, even at my most inebriated, I don't think I would ever have felt the need to become … maternal. It's perfectly natural to some, but maybe my upbringing or … environment ..."

"You can stop beating around the bush, Albus. I wasn't asking that. Why would he give that to you or Severus?"

"It may not have been his spell," Dilys interrupted. "It could have been cast generations ago. To think, it could have been Salazar Slytherin himself, and he did not foresee that his children would breed like vermin so here we are centuries later. Ideally, who would Slytherin have chosen? Of course, this is all hypothetical conjecture. It simply could have targeted at random anyone who disliked children. But as I said, ideally, a headmistress or headmaster from Slytherin house would be a fine choice, if within range of the spell. You said he was right there … so, no problem."

Headmaster Dippet said, "Maybe his portrait will talk about this. He's always been sulking over there. Never saying a word. Pulling faces. Steepling his fingers and twiddling his mustache … if he wasn't a founder, I would have chucked his ugly, simian face out the window years ago."

"I don't think he's ever spoken to any of us," Albus offered. He had tried.

"Is Headmaster Slytherin the only founder portrait in here?" Minerva asked.

"Gryffindor has a statue downstairs. That's the only portrait known of any of the Founders," Albus replied.

"How fortuitous," Minerva murmured. She went over to the portrait indicated and looked up at it. Slytherin was by no means a handsome man. Maybe years before this was painted, he had some appeal. His portrait was a wizened, monkey-faced man with a lengthy beard who currently had his fingers steepled before him. Was the English of a millennium ago, even similar enough to be understood? Minerva was not one that bothered with all those ancient languages, but if she recalled correctly, Severus did. He'd probably have a better chance of getting an answer out of this sly-eyed wretch, who probably could understand modern English perfectly well after all his years hanging here. "Prof. Slytherin, you may be the last portrait left in existence because you wisely kept your own counsel, but that could soon change."

Not even the notorious eyebrow lift perfected by all haughty Slytherin students. Severus may not have practiced his brand of coercion on a portrait before, but Minerva had faith in him. Turning from the founder's likeness, she asked, "If Severus is repairing the school, where would I be likely to find him?"

"He'd need to be in physical contact with the school itself," Prof. Dippet volunteered.

Minerva's mouth twisted. For learned men, this lot could offer the most useless information. "Really?" she dryly replied. "I would never have guessed. Is there an ideal location, or would he be close to wherever repairs are being made?"

Prof. Fortescue replied, "Depends on how he does it. The ones more in tune with the actual building can do it from anywhere. Given his short tenure, I believe Prof. Snape would have to be at the site of the repair to view it."

"I don't think so," Prof. Everard disagreed. "Prof. Snape became quite proficient with using the school. I could do maintenance for the entire building from the foundations."

"Outside or inside?" Minerva asked.

"Either."

"Let me see if Sir Nicholas or the house elves have seen him." She summoned a house elf, and tried to use her Head of House connection with Nicholas to urge him to come to the headmaster tower.

The house elf understood her request and left to ask the others.

Nicholas did appear, and said he'd consult with the other ghosts. He had not seen the headmaster since he impersonated Prof. Dumbledore.

Minerva paced while she waited.

The house elf returned to say the Headmaster had not summoned anything since before He Who Must Not Be Named was defeated, two days ago.

Minerva resumed pacing. She assured herself that Severus was resourceful. He could have summoned a house elf and sworn it to secrecy. He was the Headmaster at the moment, and they should obey him. No reason for her to think he had not eaten in two days. Even Severus Snape ate. Contrary to the occasional vampire rumors that sprouted up, usually from her house.

The Fat Friar appeared through the floor and already was talking, "Prof. McGonagall, I've seen Prof. Snape. He's below. He has been repairing the castle from the cornerstones. The Bloody Baron has been observing him for the past day."

Prof. Everard intoned, "An excellent choice, if there was major structural damage."

"How do I reach there?"

"I would be happy to lead you," the Fat Friar replied.

Minerva was glad for the company because they went through dungeons she had never passed through before. She doubted anyone came this way from the dank smell of the closed halls, and it had the permeating dungeon chill.

She would not have noticed Severus, without the Baron standing nearby. He reached out a finger to point at the floor. The light from her wand and the glow of the Fat Friar were not enough to delineate the obstacle Severus' body made.

He was on his back with his arms stretched out, his palms on the floor. His knees were bent and the soles of his bare feet were also placed flat on the floor. "Severus?" she called, hoping that he was lying still in concentration.

She knelt next to him, and placed her hand on his cool face. "Severus," she repeated.

"Has he moved at all?" she asked the Baron.

The Baron shook his head, indicating a negative reply.

Minerva pursed her lips in thought. Ghosts. It didn't matter to them if someone lie on a cold, stone floor for over a day. Her knees ached from the short time she was bent down next to Severus. She should have asked more questions upstairs, while she was waiting. She picked up each hand and folded it over his chest, then moved down to his ice-cold feet and lifted them off the floor. Her hope was breaking his contact with the stone would break him out of the trance, if that's what he was doing.

When Severus did not answer her, she considered that his hair, although long, was not thick enough or maybe the back of his neck allowed him to keep a connection. Minerva was in the midst of placing his feet above the hem of Albus' robe when Severus jerked.

"Severus?"

"Prof. McGonagall?"

"I think you've been lying on this floor for two days. Can you get up?"

"That long?"

"Yes."

Severus felt like he was still polyjuiced into Dumbledore, before taking the arthritis potion. Sitting up did not seem possible so he rolled over, got his arms underneath and pushed himself back onto his knees. Everything about his body hurt. Next time, he'd set a timer charm. He had not considered that no one would care what happened to him for this long. Severus did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed. To his colleague, he imparted, "The major structural repairs have been completed, Prof. McGonagall."

"I had noticed, but no one knew how. You might want to tell your painted cronies where you're going next time you nip off to fix the old place."

"I had no idea how long it would take."

"Were you like that the whole time, or did you take some breaks?"

"Like what?"

"Lying on the ice cold floor."

"I suppose I was," Severus replied. While his thoughts were with the castle, time stood still. It had not been like that when he looked around from the headmaster's office, or the other night when he directed the courtyard to mire the Death Eaters.

"Let's get you upstairs."

"Upstairs?" he repeated, wondering if the Ministry sent Prof. McGonagall to fetch him.

"Some tea, food, maybe a hot bath to warm your bones. Don't tell me you're so young that you don't feel it."

Trying to rise, Severus admitted, "I believe you are correct, Professor. Would it be an imposition to ask Fawkes to get us upstairs? I am still in Prof. Dumbledore's robe."

Sensing that was the least of Severus' worries, Minerva kidded, "It's a somber one. Although you made an entrance, boyo, Albus would never have worn something so sedate to his resurrection."

"I had not expected such a quick resolution once I met up with Potter. I was thinking ahead to running out of Polyjuice, or the possibility that I'd die, and I did not want to end up in one of Dumbledore's infamous creations."

Minerva was sadly reminded of the young Severus, who sat in the back of the classroom, and did not like anyone looking at him. He was not the same as a member of the faculty, but at what point did he need to become what Albus needed him to be? Was he twenty when he joined the staff? Unheard of. Outrageous. And in the first week, not even a seventh year would speak out of turn in his class. Rather like a young Minerva McGonagall filling in for the easy-going Prof. Dumbledore.

"Is that lazy chicken getting its flaming arse down here or not?" she asked.

Fawkes appeared, without Severus replying. He did not bother getting off his knees, and placed a hand on the familiar. Once Prof. McGonagall also touched him, he took them both upstairs to Severus' bedroom above the headmaster's office.

Shaken by the change of location, Severus tipped backwards and sat down on the carpeting. Irrationally, he was annoyed that he did not know what happened to his boots. If they were out on the tower, where he was with Yaxley, had they gotten rained on? Not just rained on, but rained in? That had been a good pair of boots.

He had not caught what Prof. McGonagall was saying, but if she needed the loo, he saw no problem with her using his. He was tired, and hauled himself onto the bed.

Minerva came out of the water closet after calling a house elf to fix a hot meal and bath for the headmaster, and found him sprawled face down, with his feet still hanging over the side of the bed. Even though he had complained about still wearing Albus' robe, it seemed to no longer matter to Severus. Her eyebrows rose as the snoring started.

With a few wand motions, she got Severus completely on the bed, and the covers folded over him to keep him warm. Not knowing her colleague's habits, she decided not to go further.

Once she returned to his side after dismissing the house elf, her curiosity got the better of her and she cast the charm again. Severus was pregnant. If he could be in a trance fixing the castle, then pass out like this in exhaustion, repeatedly for however long this took, it might go smoothly.

She had to admit no one had that kind of luck. Especially after getting hit with this kind of spell. Minerva sent the female students in this predicament to Poppy to sort. If male students ended up like this, they knew better than to come to her. Wizards did not get with child by accident. This was probably as close to an accident that she'd ever heard of.

What should she do? Someone might remind Severus that he had been hit with a spell. Would he notice something was amiss on his own? Minerva had no idea what there would be for him to notice. It was unlikely he'd jump to that as a conclusion, since usually there was a second person involved for the pieces to fall in place. Although Severus thought things through, this was an extraordinary situation. He could easily whip up something to take care of the problem, but then he'd end up dead, and then someone else would be burdened with this curse. There was nothing else to call it, but a curse.

Minerva simply had too much to do. She'd like to stay up here, but there were the students, the parents, everyone else, the school itself, and obviously Minerva needed a quick education on this spell and wizards in this state.

She penned out a vague note and pinned it to his robe's chest so he would not be able to deny seeing it. Minerva then called a house elf and told it to watch the headmaster and offer him food as soon as he woke, or to get another house elf up here to take his place, if the headmaster slept a long time.

On her way out of the tower, she threatened the portraits to not tell Severus about the spell, unless he discovered it on his own. Minerva intended to tell him once she had more information.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 5**

Harry was glad that Neville could make it to the Burrow for his eighteenth birthday party, along with so many others, but found him staring pensively at the chicken coop later.

"What's up, Neville?"

"Huh? Oh uh, I don't know. Lot on my mind. I can't believe that my gran and Lucius Malfoy agreed on something at the Hogwarts' Board of Governors meeting. Sad thing is, they were the only two."

"What's wrong? I heard you got the job already."

"It's not that. I mean, I still have the job with Prof. Sprout. Even Prof. Snape said I had it so it's not going anywhere."

"What's it like working with him?"

"Uh, well, I'm now privy to things that are going on, but you'll be a student still, Harry. Can't talk about that."

"Yeah, I got a letter from McGonagall. Meeting in a couple days in the headmaster's office. Can you at least give me a hint on that?"

"It's nothing. They're just trying to make sure that anyone that missed months or a year gets placed in the right courses."

"That's it?"

"Well, regarding that letter, that's it."

"Anything else?"

"Not really. My gran gave me a bit of a scare, in a very Gryffindor way, but it's all right." The thought of his gran marrying Severus Snape was more than a bit of a scare, it was downright terrifying, even though Neville was getting to know Prof. Snape a lot better. Or at least well enough to not run away when he started puking without warning. It was hard to be scared of someone that was that ill.

"She did something at the Board of Governors meeting?"

"Uh, sort of, after a vote went badly. They were wrong, and she thought she could fix it. It's probably better that um, another Gryffindor beat her to it. Prof. Snape probably thinks we're a houseful of damned idiots, but yeah … I'm sorry, it's a secret for now, but the Governors needed to know from them. Prof. McGonagall and Prof. Snape already have it worked out between them so there's no problem with the school, but they were quick to pounce on some old rule that shouldn't apply to this. They wanted Prof. Snape out, and thought they found it."

"Snape wants to stay?"

"Not really, but Prof. McGonagall … well, you know how she's so sensible. She wouldn't hear of it."

"McGonagall wants him to stay?"

"Professor McGonagall. For now. It's complicated, Harry. Prof. Snape … oh, just know that he's better at the school than at home. I know it because if something happened to gran and everything else I have, I'd be stuck the same way."

"What do you mean?"

"Either I'd have to work hard at a good-paying job to pay for my parents long-term care, or they'd have to come home. Prof. Snape mentioned taking his mother out of St. Mungo's. That whole idea of her helping him is rubbish. He'll end up having to take care of her too."

"Wait, Snape's mum?"

"Long-term care like my parents. Even though she does recognize him, she's not nipping out to the market to pick up milk and bread."

"His mum is at St. Mungo's?" Harry repeated, trying to comprehend.

"Yeah, but she's not going to be of any help. She's always scared me. I remember seeing him there, before I knew him at school. Maybe that's why I was so frightened of him. Thinking of the way she looks. He's nice to her. I'll give him that. Brings her an apple or something else to eat, cuts it up for her, and they share it."

"What's wrong with her?"

"I'm not quite sure how, but she was smashed on the side of the head with something. Right mess. Hey, don't tell him I told you."

"No, I … I'm just surprised. I hadn't known."

"Well I don't go telling everyone about my parents, and you're my friend, Harry. What friends does he have? More likely someone would go there and do her in."

"Oh, right. So whatever is wrong, it's settled then?"

"Yes, but not the way the Board wanted. That's what they get for being a bunch of arseholes."

"Neville!"

"They should be kissing his arse that he didn't let the Carrows do whatever they damned well pleased last year."

"Didn't they hurt you?"

"Eh, they could have done a lot worse. I thought it over. Prof. Snape kept showing up and being a real nuisance to them. And yeah, he ticked me off royally at the time with his comments. I'm not claiming he's my hero, like you did."

"It was a publicity thing. He's not in Azkaban, is he?"

"Sometimes I think he'd prefer it."

"What?"

"I'm not some loose-lipped grounds keeper, Harry."

"Hey, Hagrid can't help it. He's friendly."

"Well, I've been warned. And by Prof. McGonagall too. I'm not to be too chummy with the students, and go showing off with what I know about the staff."

"Oh, you know all of ol' McGonagall's secrets now?" Harry teased.

"Maybe I know a few," Neville responded loftily.

"Right," Harry replied sarcastically. "Well, I already know her favorite color is plaid."

*** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts ***

As the day for his appointment at Hogwarts grew closer, Harry got nervous. He knew Neville said it was only for course placement, but Harry hadn't seen Snape since the Ministry ceremony. Stupid git had arranged for Dudley and aunt Petunia to be his guests.

Harry still had mixed feelings over that. Ministry was being its usual self-absorbed bureaucratic paper blockage and limited guests, and the Weasleys had gotten shorted so Harry helped them out since all his close friends were getting awards. He hadn't given the Dursleys any thought to be either of his 'plus two'.

It was his own fault for not worrying about the Dursleys at all, after it had been arranged for them to go somewhere safe, and not to worry if they ever came back. Really, they had totally slipped his mind.

So there he was, Harry Potter making his speech to the crowd and there they were. Dudley and Petunia right there front and center. Wherever Snape had been hiding out, he'd probably was cackling his head off as famous Harry Potter, celebrity, savior, and whatever title he got in the headlines that day, started stuttering and lost track of where he was and flipped his parchment over and back frantically to find his place.

Then he hadn't paid too much attention to the plan, and ended up on the platform while a whole bunch of other awards were handed out. Harry's job was to smile and shake hands. So he was in the perfect position to hear what Snape muttered to Thicknesse when he got called up. Harry would swear till his dying day, Snape said, "Cheers." That was it. Harry sweated bullets for weeks, with Hermione reading it over and over, and suggesting he be more humble, then be more personable, then not get so bogged down in the weepy details, and he wanted to chuck it all more than a dozen times, and Snape just strolls out and said, "Cheers." You know, Harry should have broke into the Ministry, stolen a time turner, if any were left from them getting smashed, gone back, said, "Cheers" himself, and left Snape floundering to say something original. Git.

So if that wasn't enough, Snape had a snit afterwards when Petunia called Harry freak. That was his nickname and if it's Potter's now, he's off. Apparently, Snape had their portkey to return home to Little Whinging. Guess who had to get them home then? Harry. Harry the freak.

Now that a couple weeks had passed, Harry was ready to say it was nice of Snape to get his family there, but it had been a stressful day for Harry. He had not been ready for a surprise like that, and he never meant to steal Snape's nickname of 'freak'. Ever. Snape was welcome to it. Harry did not want any trouble. He wanted to do his final year of school and take his NEWTs. Shacklebolt and Thicknesse had made an offer to put Harry into the auror program, but he wasn't sure he was ready for it or to start getting favors like that.

Harry hadn't known what to expect when he apparated to the school gates. It was a pleasant surprise to see Neville strolling down to let him in.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I beat Hagrid and put my initials next to your name, Harry. You should see him before you leave though. He was a bit shirty with me."

"Oh, so everyone has someone letting them in?"

"Yeah. Too many people were strolling in, and some of them made a real mess. So they tightened it all up. They might have some public days for the grounds, and put it in The Prophet."

"I'm happy to see you, instead of Mr. Filch."

Neville laughed.

As they got closer to the school, Harry commented, "It's all fixed?"

"Oh yeah. I think it's even better. Prof. Snape has a real gift with talking to the building."

"So you see him a lot?"

"Sometimes. It depends on how many other people are here. He's popped up in the greenhouses to keep me company now and then."

"Checking up on you?"

"Not really. Sometimes he was walking Fang. Other times it was lunchtime. He's also useful for moving some of the more delicate plants when it's a two-person job. I just got to let him know when I need help."

"Is he allowed to help you?"

"Allowed? What do you mean?"

"Well, didn't you get the assistant job and I mean you are asking the Headmaster to help you?"

"He says when he can't so I don't think it bothers him. Prof. Snape has no trouble communicating when he's annoyed."

"So he's kind of like he was before?"

"No, he's worse, but I know he can't help that."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, Harry?" Neville asked. Harry thought he detected a bit of a sideways glance his way.

"Uh, you said Snape's worse than he was before, but he can't help that."

"Yeah, that's right."

"Why hasn't he mellowed? He's not a spy anymore. Does he even like being at Hogwarts?"

Neville shrugged, then said, "I told you already, it's better that he's here."

"I don't think many students will agree with that."

"They don't need to worry."

"Why not?"

"You are getting awfully nosy about Severus Snape, Harry."

"I just want to know what I'm getting myself into."

"You are coming back to attend school, Harry. If you have a problem, let Prof. McGonagall know."

Harry snorted, "That sounds simple enough."

"It is."

Reaching the griffin at the headmaster's office, Harry intoned, "So here we are."

"Yup." The statue moved aside without Neville giving any password. Seeing Harry's glance, he explained, "You're expected."

"Right," Harry said and woodenly stepped forward. Neville was saying Snape was worse to get a rise out of him, that was all. How could he be worse? Still, Harry nervously swallowed when he reached the top of the stairs. He shouldn't be scared. He knew things about Snape that no one else knew. That gave him an advantage, didn't it? Or it didn't because Snape knew that Harry knew … and his head was starting to hurt as he stepped through the door.

"Mr. Potter, please take a seat."

"Prof. McGonagall," Harry said in surprise. She was seated behind a desk. There was a second desk diagonally placed so just the front corners touched. The other one was closer to the fireplace, while McGonagall's was closer to the window. There was also a chaise lounge in front of the window. That was new. Did Prof. McGonagall take cat naps on it? The portraits were snoozing. Dumbledore's was behind McGonagall.

"Still interested in becoming an auror, Potter?"

"Yes, that's the same."

Minerva nodded, then said, "It's alright to change your mind, Potter. Anyway, do you honestly remember any of your sixth year lessons?"

"Uh, I think so," Harry replied, still letting his eyes wander about the office. What had been Snape's in here? Dumbledore's was so easy to remember. Hell, he remembered Dippet's better than anything of Snape's.

"Ready for a quick verbal pop quiz, Potter?"

"I guess."

Harry thought he did all right. He couldn't remember everything, but he doubted he was going to be thrown in with younger students. They couldn't take his OWL scores away, could they?

"You'll be with the seventh years, Potter. You may want to review a bit. Will you be alright without Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?"

"Wait … um, Hermione's coming back. She had to go get her parents. Ron's working on talking to his mum about waiting a year. He thinks he'll make her see reason that if he does not wait, then he won't be in the same year as Ginny."

"Well, I don't know what to say, Harry. Neither has replied positively that they are attending this year. I can make some allowances, but they shouldn't wait too long."

"But um, what about Hermione, I mean she'll be head girl, right?"

"I cannot bend the rules for Miss Granger. There was a deadline and she missed it. We cannot wait till the first day of class to see who shows up."

"But can't you just wait, Professor? I'm sure she'll take care of it all as soon as she's back in England."

"No, Potter, I cannot. Another student has already been selected as head girl."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Hermione was not head girl? It snapped shut, then he accused, "Snape did it, didn't he?"

"Professor Snape and I agreed on a deadline. That deadline has passed. The faculty was not consulted regarding the Head Boy and Head Girl positions until this past week, in case there were any more students not listed. That was at Prof. Snape's suggestion. It is now August. Students were selected and notified. There was nothing I noted that was irregular about the selection except that it occurred in August, rather than late June or early July."

"But Hermione ..."

"Miss Granger understands there are rules, Mr. Potter."

"Where is Snape anyway? Why are you here?"

"Professor Snape. Potter, in case you didn't realize it, you are in Gryffindor. Prof. Snape has enough confidence in my abilities as both your head of house and as headmistress to make the decision as to whether you are to be placed in sixth or seventh year."

"You're headmistress?"

"The plan to share the position with Prof. Snape was approved by the Board of Governors, Potter."

"What's with that? You mean he's headmaster still, and you are headmistress?"

"We feel the two of us are experienced enough that students will realize they cannot play us off against each other."

"Why doesn't he just go?"

"Why should he? Obviously whatever animosity you feel for Prof. Snape is not resolved, Potter. I suggest you continue to deal with me, rather than making a spectacle of yourself. At least I have a measure of tolerance towards Gryffindor hotheads."

"I'm not a hothead, and it's not animosity. I'm simply caught off-guard."

"I suggest you review and perhaps be prepared for changes around the school, Potter."

"What sort of changes?"

"Nothing drastic. There's still the four houses, points, House Cup, quidditch and such, but things will change over the year, and I would rather you not get into a moody snit."

"A moody snit?" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, Potter. You seem to be overly sensitive. For now, I'm still your head of house too so before you go doing whatever ill-thought out action, you can consult me. I'll tell you some things, if I think it necessary."

Pointing at the second desk, Harry asked, "Are you sharing an office with him?"

"When I'm performing headmistress duties. I still have my other office since I'm continuing to teach Transfiguration."

"Oh, so it's more like you're doing more work?"

"For now. That's why I'm telling you things will change over the year. There's adjustments that we'll be making."

"So um, where's Prof. Snape?"

Minerva tilted her head slightly, then said, "Your appointment was with me. If you need to see Prof. Snape, that would be a separate appointment, or you'll need to wait till the first day of school. Do you need to see him for something in particular?"

"Uh, no, it's just that uh, I … or rather he left the awards ceremony so soon after, I didn't get a chance to speak to him."

"You can write him a letter," Minerva suggested, glancing at the indicator on her desk that showed Severus was asleep. She was not going to wake him to have Potter start some nonsensical argument. It would serve Potter right if Severus cast up his accounts on him. However, that was entirely unpredictable.

Minerva would not have minded it to liven up the Board of Governors meeting. There were rules, but the rules were for a reason. The narrow-minded peaheads had it explained to them that Severus was the victim of a curse, and not in a family way due to unbecoming behavior. As far as they were concerned, the rule said unmarried mothers were to be dismissed from staff, unless they were widowed.

It was simply a miracle that Severus was so ill half the time, he could not think straight, or be his usual pig-headed self. While it may be less distressing for him to leave the school, he needed assistance, and not his invalid mother. The healer was certain that Severus would spend weeks, if not months, confined to bed. Physically his anatomy was not adjusting enough to carry a child. Although the whole affair was magical, it was not enough to change Severus' narrow hips or give him muscle in the right places to support the extra weight in that particular area. There was always the chance that could slowly evolve as the baby grew, but everything else was in place. Since most of the exam was by wand or under the covers, Minerva had only seen Severus' bare chest briefly. She dearly hoped that no one expected him to feed an infant. They were hardly the size of a cherry pit. This was the most ill thought-out spell ever, and she let Slytherin's portrait know that every time she had the chance. Slytherin thought he was so smart, but obviously he was proven to be a complete tit. Basilisk in the basement of a school and now this fiasco that was likely to kill the current headmaster.

It was simple. There were house elves at Hogwarts. To tell the truth, they were getting baby fever. Minerva suspected some of them could be lured away by Severus if he left. There were no babies at Hogwarts, and some of them desperately wanted a baby to take care of. Which is exactly why Minerva did not mind Severus crawling around the loo for a couple of hours each day. His life revolved around whether he was going to hurl, whether he should or shouldn't eat, and maybe after all that, he needed to lie down.

She took advantage of him while he was hardly coherent to floo them down to Gretna Green, and with Severus barely mumbling out a response, and appearing to be extremely hung over, it was settled. Not truly settled because Severus simply gave her odd looks, but he was aware he was no longer an unwed mother, and Minerva could legally call herself Mrs. Snape. She wouldn't because there was only one man whom she loved, Hugh MacGonagall. She'd never give up his name.

"A letter?"

Rolling her eyes because Potter was simply repeating everything, rather than making sense, Minerva responded, "Yes, Potter, a letter. Maybe that'll give you the chance to curb your tongue."

Harry sputtered, "I wasn't going to yell at him … it's … oh, it's not like that at all."

"Are you ready to come back to school, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah, don't you want me here?"

"Only if you are ready. The staff are here for you, but there's hundreds of other students. You can either be an inspiration for them, or a very bad example."

"All I asked about was seeing Prof. Snape."

"After accusing him of not waiting upon Miss Granger's pleasure to give the simple courtesy of a response? Do you see him so accommodating to your whims that he'd pen a letter to another student to tell her she was no longer head girl?"

"My whims? Snape?" Harry laughed derisively.

"Than what do you want him for?"

"Uh, it's sort of personal."

"Can't Arthur Weasley advise you on your personal life, or does this involve his daughter?"

"What? No, it's not like that … I mean I guess … I mean no … it's not about my love life. I only wanted to see if he was doing all right."

Minerva's eyes narrowed, "I've failed to see a single letter from you cross his desk, Potter. I don't see all his correspondence, but I probably would have seen one since the beginning of May till now. What's that, three months? And today, you want to know if he's doing all right. I tell you bluntly, no, he's not, but other people see him every day, rather than drop in every three months."

"He's not?"

"That's all I'm prepared to say on the matter at this time, Potter."

"But … uh, is he sick?"

"Potter … I'll let Prof. Snape know you asked after him," Minerva conceded. Severus knew Potter would be here today. He hadn't expressed any interest in him. Since mornings were not good for Severus at the moment, he used the office in the afternoon.

"Yeah, uh, thanks. Please do. He's done a lot for me, and I guess you're right that um, three months was a long time."

"I will, Potter." Minerva stood to get Potter out of here. He was getting on her nerves.

Upstairs, Severus had been stirring due to the horrible acoustics that had the sound of someone's raised voice come through his open window. He glared darkly at the blue, cloud-dotted sky. Fresh, Scottish air. Minerva had gotten in here.

It was not easy to think about what could be worse when he spent so much time feeling like he was on the brink of death. It was an exaggeration, but his back between his shoulder blades ached from puking so hard and continuously with dry heaves that he might as well just allow his head to fall forward into the commode and get it over with.

This curse had nothing to do with life, but his slow, inexorable death. His life depended on keeping the parasite within him alive. Everything about him was wrong to sustain it. Everything that had a possible side effect that could harm it was denied to him.

He was resourceful enough to circumvent the ban, but Severus' will to fight was low at the moment. He was supposed to be dead. What if he was still alive for a reason? A better reason than this humiliating circumstance that was thrust upon him? Shit, that was hope talking to him. Why did he still have any of that? What had ever happened to him to sustain that worthless sentiment?

Whoever was down with Minerva got quiet. Perhaps she threw his bloody arse out the window. Severus did not have that problem. Ravenclaws were prepared, and any Slytherin that did not prepare themselves academically, always had some watertight excuse prepared. It was probably an indignant, self-righteous Gryffindor. Hufflepuffs might cry, but they knew their Hufflepuff family would not hold it against them. They'd all rally to assist and in no time, the student would be placed back with his or her peers.

Would he rather catch the cries of a wronged Gryffindor, or be awoken by the cacophony of Spinner's End? Severus should have left. He had all the planning done. Without a salary, he could not afford to keep his mother in long-term care at St. Mungo's. She may recognize her old house, if not, he'd have to do something about that. One of the house elves, Winky, that worked for wages was willing to come work for him. She claimed to have experience with taking care of both babies and infirmed. Soon, it would not only be his mother, but he'd be unable to move.

He felt with a couple more months of headmaster wages and purchasing not a single ingredient or herb, and possibly liquidating some of his more exotic stores, he'd have enough put away to live modestly on for a few years till the brat was old enough to let him get back to brewing, rather than fastened to one of the swollen flea bites on his chest.

The fact was he could not lift the curse. It was in place till a descendant removed it. If anything happened to the blighter, once it was expelled from his body, he could find himself up the duff again. There was also the more ludicrous situation that someone else could and then he could be dragged into the courts for doing it to them.

There was also the continued threat that he could be held accountable for something else that he had done. Thicknesse might conveniently forget that it was Severus Snape that freed him from the _imperius_ curse in time for him to be heroically present at the end.

Severus needed to pretend to be someone else, or there would be aurors tracking him to the ends of the earth. He could not pretend to be a Malfoy, so Severus had to adopt the fictitious persona of someone who had hidden all his true feelings and impulses all these years because he had to. Perhaps that was the real cause of his nausea. Staying here at Hogwarts and pretending that he liked students and teaching, and to aid them in becoming the best witches and wizards they could be. He needed to plan his escape as soon as possible. Something would come to him.

He turned his head, hearing the door open. It was the old ball and chain. Truly, Severus had no clue about what Prof. McGonagall hoped to gain by this. His fortune, his lands, his name? All worthless. If he was acting, he'd think he had done a pretty good job luring her in, but he was really ill and miserable most of the time.

"You're awake."

"Hmm," he responded.

"Potter was here."

"Oh. I believe I've mentioned that if this window is open and the office one is open, I can hear when there's yelling."

"He was inquiring after you."

"Really? Those were his well wishes to me he was shouting?"

"No." With a smirk, Minerva said, "Maybe he heard you turned down Longbottom and thought he had a shot at you."

With a snarl of disgust, Severus replied, "What the hell's wrong with all of you?" He had not wanted to think about whatever Augusta Longbottom thought the two of them could do once they were married.

Barely in time, Severus got his head over the side of the bed to hurl up the mouthful of water he had swallowed about an hour ago, and then his stomach attempted to turn itself inside out again.

Minerva frowned. Usually Severus was better after midmorning. The healer said this would also subside once he finished the first trimester. She hovered. Severus snapped whenever the healer touched him without saying first why she had any need to. He was off the bed from the waist down and supporting that weight on his arms, with his palms flat on the floor. His hair had swung in the way again. So far, Severus had not tired of washing up that he considered cutting it shorter. Minerva had to admit this style looked little better with frequent shampooing.

"Severus?" she asked, hoping for some signal that she could do something for him.

Three house elves apparated into the room and all started clucking about the headmaster. Minerva backed out of their way. More was not necessarily better, and she feared that later it would increase to a quantity that would simply unhinge Severus.

Once Severus was sitting back up, and he had waved his hand to get the house elf off him that was trying to clean and dry his nightshirt, he looked at Minerva. Really, what did she want from him? He had never considered her particularly maternal. Protective was more like it. It was too late to protect him from anything. He certainly had not been worth her effort in the past. Severus knew Prof. McGonagall for over twenty-five years now. Gryffindors came first with her. Gryffindors came first with Dumbledore. Anyone but him came first with Slughorn. He overheard that windbag telling Potter that Lily Evans was one of the most talented Potions students he ever had. Severus did not mind Slughorn saying something nice about Lily, but why lie? There was plenty of things she was talented at. She did well on her OWL because for five years, Severus had been her partner in class. Lily got into the NEWT class, but did not pass the test at the end of seventh year. Potter was her life by then, and studying for NEWTs was not important to any of them.

"Severus?"

"What?" he hoarsely replied.

"Potter did want me to let you know he asked about you."

"So?" Changing the subject back to the window, Severus suggested, "You know, Professor, I don't think I'd mind the racket so much if it slowly and soothingly faded away. Perhaps you could defenestrate the rowdier students, and then I'd hear their cries get more distant as they approached the ground?"

"Severus, there are hardly any raising their voices down there. You need to keep your overall health as good as possible. Perhaps another walk this afternoon around the lake? You're free between half past two and four, and there's a lovely forecast."

He did not want the students back. Severus was dreading it after the hellish time he had with them last year. However, there were enough of them that Prof. McGonagall may no longer have the ability to keep his schedule committed to memory. Perhaps pompous Potter would create enough trouble to keep her occupied. Severus doubted Prof. McGonagall was going to place him with the sixth years, so there was no need for him to shout his head off. Smelly dunderhead should go play quidditch professionally, and not waste their time here.

"Well?" she asked.

"What?"

"Are you at least considering a walk?"

"Maybe."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 6 **

Harry did recall to visit Hagrid, and heard the answering shout of "Down, Fang" to his knock before the door opened.

"Harry! There you are. Knew you were comin' up today."

"Hi, Hagrid. How are you?"

"Me? Fine. Come in. Come in. How've you been doing?"

"Uh, good," Harry answered. Hagrid had cleaned? Or something. There was still things hanging from the rafters, and a lot of exposed wood, but it was different. Definitely different. Harry noted when he sat down in the large armchair, a cloud of dust and fine particles did not explode from it, and it no longer smelled like wet Fang. With a deep sniff, Harry thought he could not smell any wet Fang in the vicinity. "Is that uh, hearth rug new?"

"Huh? Oh … oh, you haven't been here since the place was rebuilt. Fang couldn't stand living up at the castle."

Harry felt like a complete dope. He had forgotten that Hagrid's hut had been incinerated. "So uh … Fang was all right then?"

"Well, after we got back down here, he was. You want ta stay for lunch? I got a stock already on the fire."

"Uh, sure. That'd be nice."

"Let me add some meat and veg to it," Hagrid said, then asked as he worked, "You already been up to the castle then?"

"Yup."

"Do all right?"

"Yes, back in seventh year, where I left off."

"Why didn't Hermione want to come back?"

"She does, Hagrid. I don't know why she didn't get her papers in before she went to fetch her parents from Australia."

"How long's she been gone?"

"Hermione said it might take her the month. She gave them vague instructions so even she wouldn't know where they were."

"Always thinking, our Hermione."

"Yeah, well, this being clever's going to take her time to sort, won't it? Do you know who got head girl?"

"Um … oh, let me think. Uh, Lovegood."

"Luna?"

"Yeah, I think that's who. There were a couple girls mentioned, but I think she got the vote. I might have gotten it wrong so don't 'gratulate her till you know for sure."

"Right. So Snape's all right then?"

"All right?" Hagrid repeated and turned to look at Harry. "What do you mean by that?"

"As headmaster. Prof. McGonagall said she'd headmistress and he's still headmaster."

"Oh yeah. Well, they got to be practical 'bout things."

Harry's brow creased. Did Hagrid mean that McGonagall got the job because all the students hate Snape? "I thought he could do a pretty good job, now that no one's telling him how to run things."

"Sure, but how's he going to do that when he can't get out of bed?"

"What?"

"Um, nothing … shouldn't have said that."

"Prof. McGonagall said he wasn't well. There's a big difference between unwell, and not able to get out of bed."

"It's not that bad … well, it's going to be get better, then worse, then better."

"Huh?"

"Shh!" Hagrid hissed and looked out the window. "It's a curse, but he'll uh, get better. Don't tell anybody I let you on to it. You were there when he got it so you know, act smart."

"That last spell from Voldemort?"

Hagrid gave him a hard stare, "You don't got to go blabbin' 'bout it. Could kill him if he's not careful. Then it'll pass onto someone else. Could be you even."

"Was Voldemort under a curse that passed on when he died?"

"Not exactly, but it's complicated, Harry. Don't worry none. They know he's got it, and they know what they got to do. If Prof. Snape was not standing where he was, when it happened, someone else would 'a gotten it. Remember that. It could 'a been anyone. Just he's got terrible luck."

Harry swallowed hard. Terrible luck? If Snape had drunk the felix felicis, would Harry be cursed and Snape be all right? Harry may be dead, and then whoever was next to Snape could have gotten hit with it. "So he's going to get better?"

"With time."

"So Prof. McGonagall is headmistress because he's sick?"

"They worked it out. School's open. No worries for you, Harry."

"You're all right, Hagrid?"

"Sure. Just got back from visiting Olympe couple days ago."

"Oh, you're still in touch with her?"

"Sure. Don't just let a woman like that get away."

Harry had trouble imagining Madame Maxime sneaking off on Hagrid.

"What?" Hagrid asked. "You're smirking."

"I'm curious if you'd ever think of moving to France," Harry suggested.

"They don't got any good voles or stoats down there. Food's hardly filling. That's why Olympe's just a slip of a thing."

Harry coughed hard to stop from laughing. "That long distance thing could make your … um, relationship stronger."

"Maybe I'll visit her again come Christmas. Fang didn't mind the castle so much when the snow's blowing so hard it gets up his nose."

"Oh yeah, well, I'm sure I could look after him."

"Eh, he's good for Prof. Snape. Should have known all along. Fang's always been partial to him."

Harry looked at Fang who had resumed his place on the hearth rug after he had gotten some of whatever Hagrid had been adding to the pot. As far as Harry knew, Fang did not express much in the way of like or dislike. Draco and the rest of the Slytherins walked by him for Care of Magical Creatures. Plenty of bad apples in that lot. If Hagrid wanted to say Fang knew Snape was on their side all along, Harry guessed he'd go along. He doubted Snape cared either way whether the dog liked him or not. He certainly did not care what people thought about him. Stupid git was willing to polyjuice himself into Harry to face Voldemort so Harry could escape. Now Snape had some curse that could have been Harry's because he gave him his luck potion.

"Harry?"

"Huh?"

"I said if I went to France for the holidays, you might be going someplace yourself. You don't have to stay here."

"Oh, right. I guess it was habit to assume I was going to be here all year. Yeah, I'll probably be at the Burrow for Christmas."

"How are the Weasleys?"

"Uh … these aren't the first family members they've lost to Death Eaters. Molly's a bit off her twig with grief and doesn't want Ron and Ginny coming back to school this year. She wants to keep them close."

"Not everyone goes to Hogwarts. Didn't you see when you took your OWLs? There's always a couple that are taught at home that come here to test. Molly and Arthur are bright, they could teach 'em, then they could take their NEWTs with you. You could even write and let Ron know what you're learning. You got the same classes as him, right?"

"Uh … I guess," Harry agreed. Oh boy. He doubted Ron and Ginny wanted to be taught by their mother for the next year. Harry loved Molly Weasley and saw her as a sort of mother to him too, but even with the love, friends, good food, jumpers, Harry doubted he could take months of that. He even still considered the Burrow brilliant but couldn't picture being there instead of here. Hogwarts was special. Was everything going to be different this year? Would it be too strange for him? McGonagall has assured him there would be quidditch, but he wanted Ron to be Keeper. Ginny to play too, and maybe they could uh … do out of bounds things together. That was not going to happen under the watchful eye of Molly Weasley. Harry suspected she had some charm that warned her whenever Ginny's lips got within six inches of his face.

To Hagrid's back as he stirred up the pot, he asked, "You're still teaching Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Oh yeah. Expecting … uh some special things to get here soon. You may be sorry you don't take it anymore, Harry," Hagrid hinted with a big wink in his direction.

"Uh, how surprised was Prof. McGonagall when you told her?"

"Um, well, she might have been a bit busy when I went to … y'know."

"Do the teachers' curriculum need to be reviewed by anyone?"

Hagric smiled, "Now Prof. Dumbledore had faith in us to teach what needed to be taught. Prof. Snape didn't bother with the established staff last year. He … oh, he was something fierce with the Carrows. Blimey … you don't think he's goin' to do that this year to all of us, do you?" Hagrid looked genuinely worried as he went over to the counter. "Not even sure I got any ink that's still wet in the bottle, or any quills."

Harry stared at the object Hagrid held up. It looked more like a broken wooden chopstick than a quill. "If he hasn't asked, I wouldn't go through all that bother, Hagrid. It's already August."

"No, I better get something written down. Can't remember what he threatened Amycus with, but he suspended Alecto without pay till she got her lesson plans in order."

"He can do that?"

"Oh yeah, Prof. Kettleburn used to be suspended all the time. He was lucky when Prof. Dumbledore took over. He'd always give him another chance to sort things. Though no more pantomimes at Christmas. No. Never again."

"Hogwarts had … like a Christmas pageant?"

"Oh, every year. Each one bigger than the last … till that last one. That might have been the last straw for Prof. Beery. We were able to keep him a while after that because his head was … well, it would have been hard for him to find other employment, but yeah, Kettleburn was suspended months. Prof. Dippet banned them, and Prof. Dumbledore, well, since he had seen the whole thing, kept the ban in place."

"Back in Prof. Dippet's time? That's a while ago."

"Oh yeah."

"Do you think Prof. McGonagall might let us do a Christmas show?"

"Uh … I don't think she was here then, but I have no doubt she heard. Let's see Beery was before Prof. Sprout … oh, Prof. Slughorn was here. He'll definitely remember it. Flaming ashwinder raining down everywhere … Great Hall on fire … yeah, he'll uh … he'll have something to say 'bout that."

"Just Prof. Slughorn?" Harry prompted Hagrid. He doubted Hagrid would see anything dangerous about a few carols and whatever, since Hagrid rarely recognized anything as dangerous.

"Well, me. I mean my beard and hair grew back eventually," Hagrid said while giving his beard a good rub to confirm it was all there.

If this didn't work on Hagrid, Harry did not stand a chance with McGonagall. "Well, you know, this is going to be my last year at Hogwarts, and if with everything that happened could revive such a well-loved tradition as a pantomime, pageant, or even some nice carol singing, I'd really love it and I'm sure so many of the other students would too. Till I came to Hogwarts, I didn't have much of a Christmas at all with the Dursleys. You've met them … and when I came here, it was the first time I felt the love of the season."

Hagrid was staring at him.

"What? You no longer like Christmas?" Harry asked.

"Eh, I'm not sure that uh … love and spirit thing will work on everyone, and Prof. Slughorn's got his own party you can go to."

"Oh," Harry answered, then asked, "I was laying it on too thick?"

"A bit."

"But you wouldn't um … say no?"

"To you? I'd never do that to you, Harry."

"What I need is Hermione to lay out a plan. Not everyone's going to be as easy as you."

"You'd only need Prof. McGonagall and Prof. Snape. Just don't ask them in the headmaster's office. Prof. Dippet's portrait'll have plenty to say on that."

"Both of them?"

Hagrid shrugged, "I'd ask both of them."

This definitely sounded like Harry would need Hermione to plan out how they should ask. Though Harry could get more information for her. "Hey, um, both of them like Christmas, right?"

"Like it? What's not to like?"

Harry's mouth twisted to the side, as he thought maybe Hagrid wasn't the best person to get information from, unless it was a secret. "I noticed Prof. McGonagall at Christmas likes a few drinks, but Prof. Snape … um, I don't really remember." All Harry could remember was he was here and usually sat somewhere around Dumbledore. He didn't look happy, especially when Dumbledore was all festive and getting him to pull a cracker with him. Maybe Snape needed some drinks too.

"Last year's nothing to go by, Harry."

"I wasn't here last Christmas."

"Eh, there were trees, and fairies and the snow falling pretty inside, but it wasn't the same. With Fang and I up the castle, that might've put us off too."

"When did your house get rebuilt?"

"Well, I was sorta here and up at the castle, but after I threw that party in your honor I had to get away for a bit, and someone vandalized it pretty bad so it wasn't completely redone till May."

"Was there a reason it took so long … I mean before that party?"

"Uh, I'm not really sure. I had asked, and at the time I thought Prof. Snape meant he didn't trust me out here, but if I had been thinking straight, he might have been saying it was dangerous for me to be out here alone."

At least Harry wasn't the only one trying to think about where they didn't understand what was going on at the time. There was so much to think about, and Harry felt that if he could spend some time alone with Snape and talk to him, that would be a lot less for him to wonder about. He had to move on with things. That's why he was back at Hogwarts now, rather than taking a year off to go some Ministry-planned tour of the country. Harry was not a traveling exhibit. His life was now his own, and the only person he wanted clinging to him was Ginny.

"Does he talk about it any?"

"Huh? No, he's never been one to sit about talking about himself."

A smirk crossed Harry's face. Why would Snape do that when it was his greatest joy to sit around insulting everyone? No, more like stand, stalk, lurk and swoop in, pouncing upon his prey with insults then give them a backhanded deduction of points before stomping them flat with a detention. Yeah, Harry better clear the air with Snape, or he was going to sorely regret coming back here for a year. What the hell had he been thinking?

After lunch with Hagrid, Harry started towards the front gate but then veered back towards to school to take a long walk. He had a lot on his mind. There were Ron and Hermione. Ginny. The other Weasleys. His godson, Teddy. Snape. Neville. Was Hogwarts where he should be? Was it his fond memories driving him here, and would it be nothing like it used to be?

He walked around the quidditch pitch then climbed into the Gryffindor stands. His mind assured him that he wanted to be here. Prof. McGonagall said there would be quidditch. It seemed shallow, but Harry loved flying. He loved playing quidditch. He loved playing seeker for Gryffindor. Some of his happiest memories ever occurred right here.

As he descended the stairs, Harry wondered when Neville got off of work. He wasn't a student yet, and Harry did not have to talk about Hogwarts.

On his walk down to the greenhouses, Harry stopped. Was that Snape? The object of his constant … no, not constant, maybe once or twice a day, thoughts? Since old habits die hard, Harry followed him. He realized he was being silly since the guy was the headmaster. Wasn't like he was sneaking around either since he was dressed all in black and crossing the lawn on sunny day, rather than hugging the shadows close to the castle wall. What Harry did notice was he was catching up to Snape. He was not walking at his usual long-legged, mowing down students too stupid to be in his way pace. He was also in a robe. Not his teaching robe that flared out behind him as he strode though the halls, but a traditional wizarding style robe, rather than his trousers and jacket. It was black. Harry would probably faint dead away if Snape was not wearing black. Even his dress robes at the award ceremony had been black.

He stopped under a large tree near the lake and sat down under it. Harry stood still and looked around. Was he meeting someone? He did not think Snape was close enough to the water to talk to the merpeople or the squid. Harry cautiously approached, nervously looking over each shoulder as his anxiety grew.

Snape was reading, or was pretending to read. Probably pretending because he was looking too … uh, idle or what would Harry say? Not innocent, that word would never fit, but relaxed. His … sandals? … were off and paired up next to his feet. When did Snape wear sandals? They were black, and definitely guy sandals. More leather than air and not at all attractive.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Huh?"

"Have you been lurking around the grounds since this morning, waiting for me to come out?"

"No, but uh … I mean I did want to see you."

Harry did not catch how Snape did the sleight of hand to stow his book away, but he held out both arms. He then asked, "Are your glasses so thick, it takes you more than a minute to see what's right in front of you?"

"What?"

"You said you wanted to see me, Potter. I realize your eyesight is so poor that you'd have to get close, but how long does it take once you are within a dozen feet of me for the speed of light to penetrate your spectacles, travel up your optic nerve and get processed by that sluggish organ you lug around in your thick head?"

"You don't have to be such a git."

"Why not? You're pestering me."

"I just found you."

"I was not lost."

"Stop twisting my words."

"Stop talking then."

Defiantly, Harry sat down on the grass in front of Snape. "I want to talk to you."

"You've already been talking to me. Why are you stating the obvious, Potter?"

Besides the sandals, bare feet that he mistakenly sat too close to, and the robe, something was off about Snape. His skin was still sallow. His eyes were still black. His hair was still long enough to cover his face when he leaned forward to read. His hair was not greasy. Harry supposed he had at times seen it sometime after it was washed, since he doubted the man went years without washing it. Trying to bluff, Harry suggested, "You don't look well."

"The sight of you does that to me."

"I'm not here to amuse you."

A smirk twitched Snape's lips as he commented, "I guess not. This appearance was not listed in the paper with your other shows."

"I don't do shows."

"Whatever you call them then, Potter."

"Give it a rest. I didn't get a chance to thank you for getting the Dursleys seats at the ceremony."

When Snape simply sat there, staring at him, Harry asked, "What?"

"You wanted me to reply, Potter? I saw no need to agree that you did not thank me. You were stating fact."

Harry's nose wrinkled, pulling his upper lip up and giving him a look of confusion. Why did Snape have to be such a world-class git? "I have some questions for you."

"You've already asked me 'huh?' and 'what?' today. There's more?"

"Yeah, there is." In frustration, Harry snapped, "You know stuff. Why won't you tell me anything?"

"I realize it's difficult for Harry Potter, distinguished speaker and toastmaster to appreciate, but other students review without the headmaster." Dismissively, Severus said, "Pay someone to read the books to you, if you can't do it yourself."

"This isn't about school. It's about us."

"There is no 'us', other than Hogwarts."

"But … why do you have to be this way? I mean, I know I'm still a student, but I'm not asking you to do anything for me."

"Then begone."

"Begone? Who uses the word 'begone'?" Harry demanded.

"I momentarily forgot who I was speaking to. Let me try this – bye bye."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 7**

Harry was angry. Cursed. Snape deserved to be cursed. Harry couldn't think of anyone more deserving to be cursed. Stupid git. The only salve to his uncharitable thought was Snape certainly did not seem to be suffering. He didn't know what kind of sob story he gave Neville and Hagrid, but Harry was not falling for it. He didn't even have to deal with Snape, now that McGonagall was headmistress. She even told Harry to see her, instead of Snape.

He had to get Ginny and Ron back at school. They'd make it bearable. Even if he dealt exclusively with McGonagall, that sneaky git would pop up every time he had a toe out of line to give him detention. What else made Snape happy, but harassing Harry Potter?

Ron finally got an owl from Hermione. She was back with her parents, but needed to settle them back in. Now that she was close enough, Harry also wrote back, letting her know to drop McGonagall a note to let her know that Hermione would be back at school come September first. She wasn't taking Harry's word for it.

*** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts ***

Hermione was at the Hogwarts gates with Ginny, Ron, and George Weasley. None of them had an appointment, but time was short since it was Friday, and this coming Tuesday was September first. After a grinning Argus Filch denied them entrance, interspersed with moments of cackling at their demands, explanations and pleas, she summoned her patronus to carry a message to Neville, hoping he was on the grounds.

When Neville did arrive, Hermione apologized when she saw how covered in dirt he was. "I'm sorry."

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to see Prof. McGonagall, and Mr. Filch has rightly pointed out that none of us have an appointment."

"That's right. Miserable mud-smirched urchins can't even be bothered to clean the filth out of their ears."

"You're keeping students out," Ron informed him once again. Filthy ears. Mrs. Norris probably licked his out. A lumos spell would probably shine right through the caretaker's head.

Neville did not want to get in trouble, nor did he want to let his friends down. "We can both walk them to the headmistress' office, and if she wants them to make an appointment for next week, we can see them out. What do you think Mr. Filch?"

"The headmistress is a stickler for appointments," Mr. Filch informed them gleefully.

"So you'll let us in?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Uh, yeah. Why are you here, George?" Neville asked.

"Someone's got to hold little Ronniekin's hand."

Ron gave his brother a look of disgust. He knew why George needed to talk to McGonagall, and he could spill the beans if George kept up with the insults. It could be worse, George could want to come back to school with him. Bad enough he'd probably end up in the same year with Ginny. Ginny had been laughing that maybe Ron would be thrown back with the sixth years. If Harry could pass whatever test, Ron could.

Mr. Filch held back an insult. He detested George Weasley, but losing his twin was more than any punishment he would have thought up. Argus would have liked to give them both a good whipping. Side by side. Listen to their cries in stereo. Death Eaters ruined that.

"Come on, I don't got all day," Filch said as he opened the gate.

Neville shrugged at them. He had no rapport with Mr. Filch yet. He might after he started working inside the castle next week. He'd just have to wait and see.

"You got some uh … stuff on you, Neville," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh yeah, I was laying down a new layer of mulch where we moved a whole bunch of things for Prof. Sprout." He used his wand to remove the fine debris.

"Are you enjoying the work here?"

"Prof. Sprout left me in charge of a lot. It's a good opportunity for me."

"She went away?"

"She's got her family, and I think she was traveling to visit a lot of student families over the holiday."

"Her family?"

"Yeah, not all the professors are single, or they got their parents alive still."

"Who's married?"

Neville laughed, "I'm not falling for that. You'd have to ask them. The only one I'll answer for is me. Neville Longbottom is still on the market."

Hermione laughed in such an agreeable manner, that Ron said, "Well, Hermione Granger is not."

"Oh Ron."

"What?"

"Neville is working at the school, and I'm a student."

"So?"

"She's right, Ron. I can't go to Hogsmeade with you, or hang out in the Gryffindor common room. Nor can you visit me in my rooms."

"Why not? We've been to Prof. Slughorn's," Hermione answered.

"Well, his is for a party, and I don't think Prof. McGonagall wants me throwing a party. I think I have to be here a while before I can throw a party."

George suggested, "Maybe Mr. Filch can throw a party."

"When hell freezes over. Mrs. Norris and I have everything just so, and we don't need you coming around upsetting her."

George made a rude gesture where Mr. Filch couldn't see it to indicate what he thought about Filch having a party. They'd all be pushing brooms and mops in time to music.

"So what do you do for fun out here?"

"Me? Well, if I've had a long day outside, a bath is nice. But uh, I've been to the Hog's Head with Hagrid. I talk to the other staff when I see them, or even make dates to eat meals with them, and then I sometimes meet someone else in Hogsmeade."

"Someone else?"

"No potential students. Don't worry."

"Sorry, Hermione, you're going to have to wait till you take your NEWTs," Ron teased.

"By then she'll know what a selfish loser you are, Ron," Ginny commented.

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm tired of watching you eat for four months. Don't sit near me in the Great Hall."

Ron made a face at his little sister, then complained to George who was grinning, "Hey, Hermione knows I have a healthy appetite."

"And no table manners. Holding food in both hands and just shoving it in," Ginny continued.

Ron made a grumbling sound. This is why they needed to get back into school. All the bickering at home. Harry could come and go as he liked, but he was trapped with Ginny. Harry had horrified both of them when he said that mum could home school them for their last year, and they could take their NEWTs with him in June. September till June, with no Harry or Hermione? What was worse was when Harry got Ginny out of the house and mum pounced on her when they got back. Ron thought he got the charm down by now and wanted to try it on Hermione. Not that he suspected anything, but just to try it. When Hermione was taking a nap or her back was turned. She might know it and get insulted. Not that she should be. She said that Viktor Krum was more like a pen pal than a boyfriend. Maybe he'd get a chance this afternoon.

None of them were feeling upbeat as Filch started laughing to himself and at the last corner, started rubbing his hands together.

Prof. McGonagall was coming down the hall from the other direction with a stack of books levitated in front of her. "What's this, Argus?"

"No appointments, headmistress."

"I know that. What are you lot doing?"

"Coming to see you, Professor. Harry said we needed to take a test for you."

"By appointment. I can't have everyone showing up as it suits them, Miss Granger. And what are you doing here, George Weasley?"

"Well, professor, I uh … have something I want to discuss with you."

"Very well. Come up, but don't think I'm going to rush this to suit your schedules."

Neville smiled and waved farewell, while Mr. Filch looked disappointed.

Hermione got ahead of Prof. McGonagall and her books to get the door, and opened it to a strange sight. Prof. Snape was sprawled on a chaise lounge in front of an open window.

Prof. McGonagall only briefly looked in his direction as she instructed the books to stack on her desk. "Severus, are you all right to give a student a test?"

"Who?" he replied, without opening his eyes or moving anything other than his mouth. Hermione was looking him over. Harry said he was cursed with something. The only thing she saw out of place was that the bottom hem of his robe had rode up enough to see the bottom his bare calves. He even had black hairs on his toes.

"Miss Granger. I have three Weasleys that also showed up out of the blue. You can pronounce all the Ancient Rune questions."

Severus sneered and opened his eyes. Quickly assessing that the rabble had already breached their office, he changed to a smirk and suavely replied, "It would be my pleasure, Prof. McGonagall."

"Thank you, Prof. Snape," Hermione intoned, hoping he was feeling well enough to be impartial.

He rose and said, "Come on. It's too crowded in here." Then headed down the stairs.

Hermione gave the others a brief wave and followed him.

Prof. Snape was already seating himself on a wide windowsill in the hall. He pointed at the other end of the sill and started talking … in another language.

Hermione waited till he finished and guessed, "Greek?"

"And?" he prompted.

"I don't know."

"You only know Latin?" he asked with a frown.

"Um, a bit."

"What spoken languages do you know?"

"I can get by in French."

"I meant for your ancient language, Miss Granger."

"I can translate six written languages with the proper dictionary."

Prof. Snape tilted his head to the side and asked, "Are you attempting to receive better than an A for your NEWT?"

"Of course."

"Let me check the testing standards. They may have changed. All the Ravenclaws and Slytherins I tested knew at least Latin."

"Where would they learn that?" Hermione asked, getting up to follow Prof. Snape back up to the headmaster's office.

"I learned Greek here, but I knew Latin from home. If you wanted, it would not take you long to pick it up. You probably recognize it from spells and the percentage of English that has a Latin root," he replied, holding back his glee that the know-it-all did not know something.

"Back so soon, Severus?" Prof. McGonagall asked.

"Excuse me. I wanted to double check the NEWT topics from the Ministry for Miss Granger."

Seeing him on the floor, looking through a bottom shelf, she asked, "Did you want me to find it?"

"I'm fine, Prof. McGonagall," he answered, already pulling out a paper bound sheaf. Severus looked at it briefly before getting up. "We will take it with us."

Ron thought he had his opportunity because Hermione was holding the door for Snape, but then the git was a gentleman and let her go first, getting hit in the back with the detection charm. Crap was what he originally thought, until McGonagall had him on the floor, with her wand out, demanding, "What was that, Weasley?"

"Huh?"

"You cast a spell on Prof. Snape."

Ginny was mortified. She knew what spell it was. Why the hell would Ron cast that on Prof. Snape? That was bloody creepy.

"What you'd do, Ron?" Hermione demanded. Prof. Snape might have surprised her with the language requirement, but he was being nice about it and was holding something to check whether it was still needed.

George's mouth was still open in shock over the spell. He knew Ron meant to cast it on Hermione, which was really stupid. Hitting Snape was even more idiotic, considering the positive response. Ron might as well kiss his chance at getting back into school good-bye. And mum wouldn't like why. She only cast that on Ginny because she didn't trust Ginny.

"I've hardly asked Miss Granger anything yet," Severus said. He could react, but since Prof. McGonagall already had Weasley on the floor, it seemed pointless. He had not felt anything and believed he was mentally aware. Weasley should know if anyone was going to remain in seventh year, it was Granger. He didn't know why Miss Weasley bothered to show up, she almost completed last year. He was worried about George Weasley being here, but if he convinced Prof. McGonagall that he should return after years of absence, it was not important. His brother's death may have left him with different goals. They should all be her problem as Gryffindors, not his.

Ron hadn't even stayed in his seat long enough to see the result of the spell that hit Snape. Not that it mattered. Ron had merely been curious about Hermione and Viktor Krum. "It didn't hurt him."

"I'll be the judge of that, Weasley." Minerva did not need some ill-thought prank killing Severus.

"It was only a detection charm," George said. "Ron's a complete numbskull. He's unreasonably jealous over Hermione and casts that at any bloke that gets her alone."

Minerva made a face, "They weren't even out of our sight for five minutes, Mr. Weasley."

"Uh ..."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. Her and Prof. Snape? On the staircase? What was he thinking?

"Can we go?" Severus asked. He did not want to get involved in some teenage spat.

"Yes, Severus."

Minerva turned on the Weasleys, "That better be the last time I see any of you casting something at him. The staff is not here for your target practice."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. Ron was stupid, but something else was going on. Prof. McGonagall had turned a blind eye towards any plots against Snape last year. Now that the truth came out, Snape was not their enemy, but there was no erasing years of him being a total git.

"It was a mistake," Ron protested as he got off the floor.

"If I was Miss Granger, I wouldn't put up with that sort of behavior."

Ron rolled his eyes. McGonagall could talk all she wanted, but she was no Hermione.

"Miss Weasley, you attended enough of the year that you can enter seventh year. Now what were you interested in, George?"

"Well, mum now and then brought up that Fred and I did not take our NEWTs. I don't want to come back to school, but maybe arrange to pay for some tutoring to take the tests in June to surprise her?"

"Tutoring? Do you have classes in common with Ronald or Ginerva? Perhaps you could visit them?"

"I guess, but considering Ron's lack of retention, I'd rather get a better source."

Ignoring his younger brother's noise, Minerva replied, "I'll check into that. It will have to wait until after next week. I'm very busy till school falls into its regular schedule."

"That's fine, professor."

"Now Ronald, do you recall any of sixth year?"

"Yeah."

Both Ginny and George winced as Ron made some obvious errors in his answers.

Prof. McGonagall concluded, "I'm not so sure you remember enough. You can review over the weekend, and I'll give you two weeks in seventh year classes to prove yourself. I suggest you concentrate on Potions, Transfiguration and Charms. Your Defense is fair enough."

*** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts ***

Hermione stormed down the stairs. Ron cast a spell at Prof. Snape to see if he had … with her? How often did he cast spells like that? Did he cast it at his brothers? At Harry? They were a lot more likely than Prof. Snape. Did Ron have some prejudice against bony, hairy, ugly bare feet? Oh yeah, they were dang sexy. Hard to believe there weren't witches a hundred deep around the building after him.

She was so mesmerized by his repulsive feet dangling off the floor once he sat that she missed Prof. Snape referring to the Ancient Runes NEWT standards.

"Excuse me, Professor?" she asked. It wasn't Prof. Snape's fault they showed up unannounced when he was resting or whatever up there.

"The spoken languages recommended are Latin for Exceeds Expectations, and the addition of ancient Greek for an Outstanding. There's a short list of alternate languages, but there's advance notification needed if you plan on being tested on them. French is not listed."

Hermione leaned over to view the list. The only one she recognized as still spoken was Hebrew, but it was preceded by the word 'ancient'.

"Did you take this NEWT?"

"Yes."

"Did you do well, Professor?"

"Outstanding. It's a good subject for an academically inclined field with research. A lot of the old families have books that haven't been opened in generations. Older English is in some, but Latin and Greek were used universally throughout Europe."

"Our library is not like that."

"Hogwarts' library has been modernized with English translations of most of the standards the students would need. Especially since the most popular books need replacing once they can no longer be repaired. Knowing Latin is no longer a requirement for admission. That was changed in the nineteenth century. Main subjects change also. For example, alchemy is no longer offered."

"So I should learn Latin?"

"Do you need to know it? Or is it just for the NEWT grade? There's some alternates to impress the testers, but they could be more time consuming than learning a language."

"Shouldn't I know it?"

"What are you planning on doing?"

Severus' eyes glazed over as Hermione Granger listed every profession other than training security trolls or playing quidditch professionally. She had no idea what direction her life was going to take.

Transfiguring some chalk, Severus scrawled an arithmancy problem on the wall opposite the window and handed the chalk over to Granger.

She paused during her work and asked, "So how did you do on your Arithmancy NEWT?"

"Outstanding. I still use it for resizing quantities and finding compatible ingredient substitutions."

"How early did you decide on Potions, or was it an opportunity that came along?"

"I had an early talent for understanding why the ingredients worked to achieve the result."

"Besides Potions, did you get an outstanding NEWT in any other subject?"

"Defense against the Dark Arts, Charms and Herbology."

"Not Transfiguration?"

"Exceeds Expectations is adequate for a potions master," he replied with a dismissive tone.

"Did you feel like you should have taken other subjects?"

"Why? I don't need them."

Hermione bristled. She knew Divination was worthless, but Magical Creatures, Astronomy and Muggle Studies were worthwhile. "What if you were stuck in muggle London?"

"Why would I be stuck?"

"I don't know, but you wouldn't know anything."

"What do you mean, I wouldn't know anything?"

"Like how to use any of their things."

"What things? Like dialing 999?"

"How do you know that?"

Severus shrugged, and asked, "Are you just looking for a reason not to work on that problem, Granger?"

She turned back to the problem. Even when she was little she knew 999 was for emergencies.

After she finished with the problem, Prof. Snape asked Hermione to draw a transfiguration diagram before saying she was fine for seventh year.

He cleaned off the wall and the griffin stepped aside for him to return to the headmaster's office. All three Weasleys were seated with their hands folded in front of Prof. McGonagall's desk.

"All done, Severus?"

"Yes, Granger can stay in seventh year," he replied, bending down to replace the NEWT volume on the shelf before going round to sit at his own desk.

"I'm finished with the Weasleys. You are all free to go. Miss Granger, would you like to stay for dinner this evening?"

"Um … all right."

Ron made a face. Dinner with a teacher. He already knew from Harry that Hermione got back too late to be head girl, but maybe McGonagall had something else in mind for her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ron. I'm going home tonight."

"S'alright."

Minerva watched the Weasleys leave and listened a moment before saying, "You are too bright for him, Miss Granger. Don't you agree, Severus?"

"With what?"

"Miss Granger and Ronald Weasley."

"They have history in common."

Hermione was not sure she wanted to stay now, but Prof. Snape's answer was not as condemning as she expected it to be. "Ron's got a bit to go yet."

"Casting spells on any male that's been alone with you, and for such a ridiculously brief period of time. That lack of trust is only going to grow worse. If you've done something to lose his trust in such a manner, you may want to consider cutting your losses."

"I haven't done anything. That's the first time I've caught Ron casting it."

"It probably was not the first. It was obvious to me that Prof. Snape had returned for something on your behalf. Surely any boneheaded Neanderthal would know you had been talking, rather than doing something else."

"Like what?" Severus asked.

"Mr. Ronald Weasley thought that Miss Granger would need to pay for her passing evaluation with her body," Minerva informed him.

Hermione was not sure if the look of disgust on Prof. Snape's face was directed at Ron's opinion or the thought of touching her.

Severus summoned his sandals from the other side of the chaise, then stood.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Upstairs."

"Aren't you staying to dine with us?"

Hermione did not see anything particularly wrong with Prof. Snape. He did seem less insulting. That could be tiredness.

"Not if the conversation is going to be dominated by talk of Weasley and Granger's love life."

"We don't need to talk about him. I just wanted Miss Granger to know my opinion. If things are this bad now, they aren't going to get better."

Severus cocked an eyebrow and said, "Undoubtedly you are correct, Prof. McGonagall. You have a keen sense for telling which are the marrying sort."

Hermione knew there was some private knowledge between them by the way Prof. McGonagall gave Prof. Snape a glance over the top of her eyeglasses. Prof. Snape did not seem to be cowed by Prof. McGonagall's look and sent his sandals upstairs. He moved and took a seat in the middle of the loveseat across from the fireplace, then used his wand to drag a table over, open it to insert a folding leaf to enlarge it for dining , and maneuvered the matching chairs on either side of the fireplace into place for the ladies.

"Were you hungry already, Severus?"

"Not particularly. What about the two of you?"

Hermione noted the comfort with which they spoke to each other, and also that Prof. McGonagall kept asking Prof. Snape questions, like if he needed help with getting that book. Harry had not given her any firm details, but said that Prof. Snape was still sharp-tongued and was apparently not in any discomfort.

Both Minerva and Hermione were wiling to wait, and Prof. McGonagall offered Hermione a glass of wine to accompany a tray of cheese and fruit that was sent up by the house elves. When Minerva sat at the table, Hermione joined them. She looked at the variety of beverages the house elves had provided for Prof. Snape. He drank orange juice. That was unwizardly. Did he have vodka mixed in with it?

Prof. McGonagall asked Hermione about Australia, and she had plenty to tell of her adventures to find her parents.

Severus glanced around in boredom. He had asked them not to speak of Weasley. Granger constructed her own dilemma and then tells of her cleverness in finding the parents that she misplaced? Gryffindors.

Going to Australia with Lily had been one of Severus' old ideas. A country settled by exiled wizards couldn't be as choosy about blood status. Lily did not want to live so far away from her family among people she did not know. Her way of saying that she found him insufficient as a companion.

After he found Petunia and she proffered some greeting insults, she got very chatty about the past. Once Lily took up with Potter, she was out of their lives except for a couple letters. Couldn't even be bothered to come see her son, Dudley, after he was born. Then Lily's brat was dropped on the Dursleys' doorstep. Lily could have written letters just as easily from Australia as Godric's Hollow.

He was tired of all the talking. Prof. McGonagall's self-guilt was enormous. She repeatedly stated why she took matters into her own hands, with explanations about her past and comparing it to his. Severus was never married to Lily. She never wanted him. How were they the same? And why did Potter tell her all that? He obviously couldn't be bothered to stick to the facts. The truth was meaningless to Gryffindors. Probably told that to Weasley too, though why he'd make that flawed leap of logic to think he'd seduce Granger was beyond his capacity to reason. She was not physically attractive. She was not even well-groomed. She was too busy listening to herself talk that she heard no one else. Why was Weasley so desperate? Now was a good time to find someone better suited, while he was riding the wave of popularity with Potter. Ronald Weasley seemed the simple sort. He needed a witch that could cook and tell him he was brilliant in the bedroom and on the quidditch pitch. If Granger was not doing any of those three things, perhaps that's why he was pretending to be a total dunderhead. She'd break it off, rather than him, and he'd feel good about it being her decision. It was all about Gryffindors validating themselves. Granger in Australia, the new Mrs. Snape, and Ronald Weasley's quest to have Granger dump him.

"..., Severus?" He looked at Prof. McGonagall questioningly. She repeated, "I said, I definitely prefer Scotland over some foreign country. What about you?"

"Whatever you say, Professor," he answered. Hogwarts was in Scotland, and he supposed he had little choice about where he would be living in the near future. Might be simpler later if he could not tolerate sight of the thing to have all these house elves clamoring to care for it. If it was a difficult child, Winky alone might not be enough. What if he suffered from one or all of these complications he read about? Lying there, listening to all that crying, Winky making all those elf noises, and whatever his mother yelled in response? It could have been hell. He wanted quiet and to be left alone, however whatever his old master or his god forsaken ancestor did denied him that for the time being.

Minerva gave him an annoyed look, and Hermione said, "Scotland is beautiful. Around Hogwarts is nice, but do the two of you visit the countryside? I've seen beautiful photos of heather and rolling hills."

"The two of us?" Minerva replied. "I do not take Prof. Snape with me on holiday."

He raised an eyebrow in her direction. Discussion of where they would take holidays, separately or together, had not been one of the topics covered. Severus vaguely recalled her saying she was from Edinburgh, when one of the numerous Defense instructors had inquired.

Hermione laughed, "I didn't mean it that way. Just that either of you obviously leave the school at times."

"I enjoy staying in Scotland, but have traveled elsewhere." She gave an obvious glance to Severus.

"I don't go anywhere special," he commented.

"Harry let me know that Hagrid visited France again."

"Yes," Minerva agreed. "Like him, I find their food more fanciful in the presentation than substance."

As the silence grew, Hermione prompted, "Do you like French food, Professor?"

"No," Severus answered abruptly.

Hermione felt Prof. Snape was moody over something. He had been nicer and talkative earlier. Eating a meal with a student annoy him? She was above that sort of thing, and would not sink to his immature level.

Minerva signaled for dinner to be served, and platters and their place settings appeared. Prof. Snape's plate already had food on it. Hermione considered he might have dietary restrictions since his food was rather bland looking. A small piece of skinless chicken, some sort of sliced yellow vegetable that resembled a cucumber along with what looked like raw spinach leaves. He also had a small bowl of what looked like tomato soup.

"Potato, Severus?"

"Yes, please."

Prof. McGonagall lifted one of the jacket potatoes and added it to his plate. Then took one for herself, before pushing the bowl that contained another dozen whole potatoes in Hermione's direction.

Besides potatoes, there was a generous amount of roast chicken piled on a plate, a deep bowl of peas swimming in butter sauce, broccoli with cheese, and a dozen dinner rolls cushioned in a matching cloth to their table linen. There was a brick of butter, a boat of gravy, a bowl of sour cream, and then a little dish of chives and another of green onions.

Hermione watched the two of them silently. Prof. McGonagall had hearty portions on her plate, but not a Ron-sized meal. Prof. Snape spent more time cutting his food up than eating it, and did not add anything. Not even a pinch of salt or a dash of pepper. It would have been terribly boring to Hermione for a meal, and he left much of it untouched, even though all of it was reduced to bite-sized bits.

"We have the school and grounds open to the public on Sunday, Miss Granger. That will give us an evening and a day to restore whatever is out of place," Minerva mentioned.

"I missed the day two weeks ago. Was it bad?" Hermione asked.

"We thought that by setting some simple rules that we'd have cooperation, but unfortunately that was not the case. Prof. Snape let Peeves do as he pleased to anyone he found above the ground floor that was unaccompanied by a staff member. For the public's safety this time, the Ministry is sending more of their people over to keep an eye on things."

"Peeves follows instructions?"

"Selectively," Severus answered.

Although Prof. McGonagall had refilled her wine glass twice, it looked like Prof. Snape was now drinking from a glass of milk that had been sent up earlier.

Prof. McGonagall explained, "The Front Hall and the Great Hall are of historic interest to everyone."

"There's a lot of antique and valuable items in the school that are small enough to be looted," Prof. Snape added.

"Also tried to break into the library," Prof. McGonagall informed her.

"There was no fighting in the library, was there?" Hermione asked, positively horrified by the thought.

"No, but the books have value to anyone that would care to steal and sell them," Prof. Snape sneered.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Mundungus Fletcher would not be the only person to take advantage of that. There were rare and valuable books kept safe here, besides whatever illicit knowledge was in the restricted section.

"Are you in the mood for trifle, Hermione?" Minerva asked when the three of them were done with dinner.

"Yes, please."

A glass appeared in front of each of the ladies, layered with cream, berries and cake. Prof. Snape had a small bowl of some cream and poured something that looked like sawdust onto it and mixed it in.

Noting that Granger was fascinated by his food, he told her, "It's yogurt with ground flax seed."

"Ah," Hermione replied. "That's good for …?"

"Anytime. I sometimes eat it with breakfast or lunch."

That was not what Hermione meant. Prof. Snape was not so old that he should be worrying about his health to the point where he ate such an uninteresting diet. It might also be why he did not eat his entire meal. There was nothing to savor.

Minerva reconsidered that perhaps having Severus eat alone in his room would provoke less questions from Miss Granger. Severus was avoiding any foods that he brought up repeatedly, besides needing certain things for the babe like whatever acid was in orange juice for its nerves. She was almost as fed up with this healer as Severus. It was too much information that neither of them had given thought to before this summer. Besides, the advice seemed to be of no help whatsoever. Severus was tired, felt ill on and off, and still could throw up with little warning. According to the nine month timetable, he should be feeling better. Not comparatively better to the whole days he wasted lying on the floor of his loo, but much improved. Severus was supposed to teach two subjects while they waited for qualified applicants to show themselves.

She already had a plan in motion to obtain a substitute for Defense, while Severus was incapacitated. However, she was using an unknowing Severus as the bait.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 8**

Harry was waiting for them when they got back to the Burrow. He hoped everything had gone well, but Ron stomped angrily into the house, ignoring Harry's question.

"Ginny?" Harry asked, trying to get some sort of answer.

"Ron's a real jerk."

"I heard that!" got yelled back down the stairs by Ron. "George didn't need to say that."

"Oh ho, like you really wanted to know that about Snape?" George kidded.

"What happened?" Harry prodded.

Ginny sneered as she informed her boyfriend, "Ron decided it was the right time to find out what Hermione got up to in Australia without him. He was so darned eager, he hit Snape in the back with that charm of mum's to see if I'm still a virgin. McGonagall went berserk. George sort of covered for Ron since Hermione and Snape had disappeared downstairs for a couple minutes."

From upstairs, where he was listening, Ron screamed, "It was a dumb lie. Why couldn't you think up something smart, George? What's Hermione going to think?"

"There was only a limited number of harmless detection spells you could have cast at him that would have made sense, Ron. And another thing, give the truth a good think while you're sulking up there … you believe Ginny and you would be welcome back after prying into his lack of companionship? Or any of our children, you idiot?"

"Lack?" Harry gasped.

"You've seen him, Harry," Ginny responded, as if that explained everything.

Harry did not want to supply any information about his mother so he changed the subject, "Where did Hermione go? She mad?"

"She stayed to have dinner with Prof. McGonagall."

"Oh," Harry responded agreeably. "Maybe she has something special in mind for Hermione."

"Or is setting up our dear Hermione with a nice boy she knows," teased George.

"That's not funny!"

Ginny shook her head, and complained, "If he can't trust Hermione to go get her parents back without having some fling with some Aussie bloke, what's he going to do after the romance fades?"

"My romance ain't fading!"

"Oh come on, you're going to follow her every time she leaves the house, if you can't keep her confined to your kitchen and bedroom, you jealous turd!"

"I would not!"

"What are you yelling about now?" Molly screamed.

George laughed, "Don't look at me. It's little Ronniekins casting your charm on everyone he meets. He's checking out who besides him is a virgin around Hogwarts."

"Ronald Weasley!" she screamed. "That spell is for protective parents, not for skirt-chasing quidditch players."

Harry made a face. How did quidditch come into this? He liked quidditch, and he was only interested in Ginny. Harry could also respect the boundaries that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley placed, however he would like a little quality snogging without either of them, or Ron, or George, or any other Weasley popping up. He really could not take Ron's side on this. He could talk to Hermione and ask her. If he hit someone else in the back with that spell, he was trying to be sneaky about it.

Of course now Harry was thinking about that. Mentally he thanked Ron for being such a git. Harry did not consider himself knowledgeable about what was right, either with wizards or muggles. From what he heard from Ron, before he decided Ginny was the one, was that wizards should try out different witches while dating before determining which one to marry. Seamus and Dean had said similar things. Just look at Cho. Harry thought from just looking that Cho was great. Once he got to really talking to her, and listening to her cry, there was really no reason to do more than kiss her a couple times.

However, there was some sort of double standard about witches trying out wizards. Ginny had dated some fellows at school, but nothing serious. Ginny had already told him that she only kissed other guys. He believed her, before he even knew what Mrs. Weasley cast on her a couple times. What if Ginny and Dean had done more? They hadn't, but how would Harry feel about that? It might have been Harry's fault for not letting Ginny know how he felt about her earlier, then not wanting to see her to protect her, then wanting to see her again. Oh gosh … he was lucky that Ginny knew she wanted Harry all along, or this could be really confusing and hurtful.

So if Snape never did anything, then it didn't necessarily mean that it was due to Harry's mum. He had been spying. Couldn't trust people, or was around the wrong kind of people. Doing things for Voldemort, or doing things for Dumbledore. Probably miserable because he was at Hogwarts all those years, surrounded by dunderheads and idiots. However, this was not a subject that Harry would feel comfortable asking about. There were more important questions, and he really did not care about Snape's love life. He could change all that now since he was sort of a hero. Snape was more mysterious than Harry so he probably appealed to some more interesting witches. Harry's fans screamed his name and went plain crazy for him.

Ron talked about Hermione when he got Harry alone. Harry told him he might have done the wrong thing, but Ron got busy talking about he annoyed he was that McGonagall got on his case. Harry did not know who would take Ron's side in this situation.

Although going back to school should reek of normality, now that Voldemort was defeated, was it going to be months of Ron and Hermione fighting? Harry could hide out with Ginny, but Ginny took Hermione's side a lot. It wasn't hard with Ron being an utter ass towards his little sister, and then doing such stupid things with Hermione. Besides whatever wizard Ron suspected her of meeting in Australia, for some reason Viktor Krum's name got mentioned. The last time they saw Krum they had to run for their lives. There was no opportunity for Hermione to sneak off for a quick snog. Ron was barking mad. Would Ginny get like this?

HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG HG

Hermione did stop at the Burrow on Saturday. She had been contemplating not going after Ron's insanity yesterday evening, but she did say she come by. Besides Harry seemed interested in Prof. Snape, and she might have some clue about how he was cursed.

Regrettably, Ron had been watching out the window for Hermione to apparate here, and met her at the door so she was unable to get inside without making a scene.

"Hermione."

"What, Ron?"

"I want to talk to you."

"What could you say? You're insane with jealousy?"

"It wasn't jealousy."

"Then why would you cast that charm at Prof. Snape?"

"George got it wrong."

"Wrong? What did you cast? Why could you cast anything at him? Were you trying to ruin my test? Think it funny if I got sent back to sixth year? Or you already knew you couldn't get into seventh and wanted me to join you?"

"Oi! Give me a chance to answer one of them!"

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to answer anything?"

"I thought we could go for a walk."

"A walk? You think I'd prance around holding your hand after that?"

"Why not? Didn't you say you understood I did it because I was jealous?"

"Of Prof. Snape asking me Ancient Runes questions?"

"Not the Ancient Runes part."

"You're an idiot, Ron. What makes you think that Prof. Snape and I were doing anything other than my questions? We were only gone a couple minutes."

"That's not important, Hermione."

"I think it could be, now let me in the house, I want to talk to Harry."

"Harry?"

"Yeah. Now what? You think I want to snog Harry silly too?"

"Huh?"

"Don't worry, after Prof. Snape, I think I'm ruined for all other men."

While Ron made a face that led to some mild retching, Hermione walked past him and into the Burrow kitchen.

"Hey," she said to Harry and Ginny who were at the table with some books. Harry was helping Ginny get her summer homework finished. "Did you already get your Defense text, Harry?"

"Not yet. We can go together. Did you find that homework hard?"

"I didn't do that one yet," Hermione admitted. "How much do you think I could do overnight, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, and asked, "Which did you get to?"

"Transfiguration and Charms."

"Oh yeah, McGonagall's still teaching Transfiguration for now. What do you think about Snape giving her that extra work?"

"I don't know. Prof. Snape didn't look well when we got there."

"He didn't?"

Ginny said, "He was laying down in the office. Didn't even put his shoes on when he hauled himself up to ask Hermione questions."

"How late did you go?" Harry asked.

"It was still light out," Ginny complained.

"Prof. McGonagall asked him to take care of my questions," Hermione explained.

Ron entered complaining, "She probably thought you'd give us answers."

"No," Hermione snipped. "He tests the Ravenclaws, Ron."

"So?"

"They're more likely to have Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, in case you didn't notice."

"Well, so do you," Ron replied in the same tone.

"Forget it, Ron. How are you doing on your homework, by the way?"

"I'll get to it. I have three days and the train ride still."

"Ron, you're a prefect. You can't ask students on the train for answers."

"You could save Gryffindor the embarrassment, Hermione," Ron hinted broadly.

Hermione sighed loudly and waspishly corrected Ron, "No. Why don't you start now? Ginny is."

"Harry's just using that as an excuse to spend time with her."

"I can do my own homework, Ron. In case you forgot, I got more OWLs than you."

"Who cares?"

"Can you two stop it?" Harry pleaded.

"Just because you decided not to do your homework, Ron, there's no need to bother me," Ginny informed him. "Do you want me to call mum?"

"She's hanging laundry."

"I got to get to doing my homework too," Hermione added. She did, and it was the perfect reason to get away from Ron for the rest of the day. "I wanted to compare notes with Harry, since he thinks Prof. Snape is cursed."

"Hagrid confirmed it," Harry replied. "From Voldemort."

"He could talk," Ginny mused.

"I know that. His insults just kept coming when I saw him earlier this month," Harry huffed.

"I noticed that Prof. McGonagall kept asking him things. Like when we came back up, she offered to find whatever he needed."

"Might be she moved everything in the office to where she wanted it," Ginny suggested. "Snape's smart enough to know McGonagall's going to get her way. Not worth the time to fight her."

Harry's eyes darted to Ginny. That was an odd observation, but Mrs. Weasley probably knew where everything was here better than her husband. Would Ginny do that to him? Not that it was worth fighting over, but Snape was in that office first. Harry doubted Prof. McGonagall did whatever she wanted without at least telling him. She was kind of pushy when Harry was there to see her, and Ginny told him last night that she knocked Ron on the floor when he cast a charm on him. Oh gosh, the embarrassment if Prof. McGonagall thought Ron wanted to know if Snape ever did it. She might think Harry put him up to it, and not admit him either when she denied Ron and Ginny the chance to go back to school.

"She did ask him if he was well enough to test me," Hermione recalled.

"Could have been a headache," Ron interjected. He didn't want to waste time on Snape, especially after the horrible thing Hermione said.

"He ate a different dinner than the two of us."

"So?" Ron challenged. McGonagall said nothing about Snape eating with them. She tricked Hermione into staying.

"Just strange," Hermione continued. "He didn't put anything on his jacket potato. Ate it plain."

"I don't think that's any curse worth worrying about. Hagrid said he couldn't get out of bed."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer fellow," Ron stated. Ginny nodded her agreement. She was not forgiving him for George's ear or last year. Snape didn't have to be such an absolute git every second of every day. It was no surprise to her that Snape never found anyone as desperate as him to shag.

Hermione ignored Ron, and agreed, "Yeah, he was moving. I guess what he ate for dinner wasn't important."

"You'll figure it out for me, Hermione," Harry encouraged her. "We know a couple things, and once you get back to the library, we'll know within hours."

"I can't take any time away from studying for my NEWTs, Harry. I better get home and get the rest of my homework done. Did you want to get our Defense texts tomorrow or Monday?"


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Chapter 9**

Mrs. Weasley did try to convince Ron and Ginny that they were not ready to go back to school on September first, but if they stayed home a couple days or a week, that might turn into much longer.

Ginny was not swayed in the least. She had to get out of the Burrow. If Ron tried to give her one more talk about the importance of marriage, she'd end up killing him. He had recovered from bat bogeys, punches to the face, punches to the stomach, and was still getting over a kick to the groin. He was a fine one to talk - especially with his mouth full.

Ron had considered it. Hermione was still upset with him for some reason when they met in Diagon Alley. Why was she being so stubborn? It was only a silly detection spell. If he stayed home a couple days, she'd realize how much she missed him. Hogwarts would not be the same without him, and with Harry holding hands with Ginny, Hermione would get lonely … wait, she'd be in the library. Damn, he had to get started on this homework, and they were leaving for King's Cross in … about two hours according to his pocket watch.

Harry thought he was going upstairs for some peace and quiet in Ron's room because even though the three of them had had first days of Hogwarts before and departed from the Burrow, no one seemed to get any better at it. His trunk had been packed for good since he finished washing up this morning, and all he had to do was wait for Mrs. Weasley to yell at him to come downstairs for them all to floo to London. However, Harry walked in on Ron throwing things out of his trunk.

"You should be packing that, mate."

"You're one to talk … I'm trying to find my clean parchment."

"Writing a farewell note to the ghoul?"

"No, I got to get my homework done."

"Now?"

"Yeah, there's too much to get done tonight."

Harry tried to remember what Ron had been doing since he was admitted back into school on Friday. He had been helping Ginny with hers, but not answering anything, just helping. Every time he saw Ron, he was either getting something to eat, a drink or pestering him to go play quidditch in the orchard.

"I can help you a bit, Ron."

"Can't I just copy yours?"

"Copy? There's essays, Ron. You can't just copy them."

"I'll mix the words up a bit. No worries, mate."

"I'm worried. Some of the teachers will let it slide, but we still have a lot of the same professors. McGonagall will see it right away. Maybe Flitwick ..."

"Potions, at least. Slughorn won't care. And Defense. It'll be someone new and they won't notice it."

"Uh … you promise you'll make it sound like you wrote it?"

"Yeah."

"You have to do it now, Ron, and don't tell Ginny or Hermione."

"Why would I tell them?"

"I don't know, but sometimes you say and do stupid things," Harry warned as he retrieved his homework for those two classes.

"Oi!"

"Aren't you admitting you have not done any homework and we're leaving to catch the train soon?"

"I was busy."

Harry rolled his eyes as he handed his work over.

***** Platform 9¾ *** *** Platform 9¾ *** *** Platform 9¾ *** *** Platform 9¾ *** *** Platform 9¾ *** *** Platform 9¾ *** *** Platform 9¾ *** *** Platform 9¾ *** **

Harry had been gazing longingly at the owls in their cages as the younger students queued up with their parents to pass through the barrier to platform 9 ¾ , when Ron elbowed him and whispered hurriedly, "Don't let the girls know I still have homework to do."

"So I can just tell your mother then?"

"No!"

"Just pulling your leg."

"That's not funny."

"You'd probably do better on your NEWTs under your mum's tutelage," Harry mused aloud.

Ron made a face and hissed, "I just need to get good enough scores for the auror program. You think Kingsley can pull some strings if I miss one or two?"

"Why are you worried about not testing well enough now? You have months to study."

"I don't know. I mean he did offer to do something to get you in."

"Yeah, and I'd also have to go to statue and plaque dedications whenever they wanted."

"That's not so bad."

It was Harry's turn to look disgusted. Thicknesse was still Minister for now, and Harry told him bluntly that he was not politically inclined unless something really got his attention. If it was not on the scale of Voldemort, then he expected Thicknesse to give him freedom, or else. The fellow seemed to be doing a decent job with limiting how often Harry was even invited to something, and he didn't put out crazy press releases regarding Harry either.

"Why do you think teachers are on the platform?" Ginny asked.

Harry looked around and saw a few teachers. Considering Prof. Trelawney was one of them, he hoped she was not predicting that Harry Potter was going to die with most of the passengers on the Hogwarts Express today because she saw a grim crossing the tracks in her tea this morning.

He caught Neville's eye who gave him a smile and a small wave, but Harry suspected he did that on the sly since Snape was next to him, but facing the other way. Since Prof. Sprout was with him too, Harry did not feel too bad for Neville.

It was not until a large arm fell across his shoulders that Harry realized that Prof. Slughorn was here too.

"Harry," he announced, "I've already secured a nice compartment for us. You too, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley and Mr. Weasley. We have so much to catch up on. Let's get your farewells taken care of and those trunks stowed, eh?"

"Uh … you're coming on the train?" Harry asked.

"Every year. What better way to kick off a new year by talking about what we've done over the holiday? You were probably busier than me, weren't you, Harry?" Slughorn asked with a wide grin and a tightening of his arm to pull Harry closer.

"Not really."

"So modest. Well, if you insist, I suppose I could tell you about a few people I visited to get you warmed up."

"What about the other teachers?"

Prof. Slughorn looked around, then dismissively said, "Most of them had to stay and clean up around Hogwarts."

"Not all of them."

After a deep contemplative breath, Slughorn admitted, "I doubt you know the same people as Pomona Sprout … but you can catch up with her over tea one day, couldn't you?"

Harry was already being steered towards the train by Slughorn's weighty arm when he had a thought, "Although you were away, do you know a lot about what's going on at the school?"

"Do I? I've been there longer than any of them now."

"Right," Harry agreed. "Hagrid mentioned there even used to be a pantomime."

Slughorn chuckled and said, "Well, it's easy enough to laugh about that now, but it was a big deal back in its day."

"So you wouldn't be opposed to the reintroduction of that tradition to Hogwarts, Professor?"

"With you starring in such a show, who would be, Harry?"

Harry's face twisted. That is not what he meant.

"Why don't all of you get comfortable? I saw a few other students I wanted to invite to join us," Prof. Slughorn told them before he went back to the platform.

"Harry, what was that about a Christmas show?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, something Hagrid told me about. They used to have one, but the last one was some big disaster back in Headmaster Dippet's time."

"Did You Know Who have something to do with it?" Ron asked.

"Uh, I think it was something with an ashwinder, not Voldemort."

"An ashwinder?" Hermione repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah."

Prof. Slughorn returned as the train started to move with a few students behind him. He visibly used his finger to count the remaining seats and then asked Ron, since he was closest to the door, "Mr. Weasley, I had seen Mr. Longbottom earlier on the platform, but I lost track of him. Could you nip out and ask him to join us?"

Ron made a face but got up with a halfhearted, "All right." Neville would make this more bearable.

While Ron was gone, Hermione mentioned, "Professor, I'll have to leave in a bit to perform prefect duties."

Slughorn acknowledged Hermione's request and interrogated the new students.

Ron returned with Neville behind him. He had found him with Prof. Snape and Prof. Sprout at the front of the train. Ron had wasted his time working from Slughorn's compartment near the front backwards before coming back up.

Hesitantly, Neville asked, "You wanted me, Prof. Slughorn?"

"Yes, take a seat, Neville. Wanted to have all of you together."

"For what?"

He gave a brief laugh before commenting, "You're almost as modest as Harry. Speaking of Harry, or the Chosen One, how was your holiday? Did you travel outside Britain for any awards or just to get away?"

"Uh no … Hermione went to Australia though."

"Well it wasn't a holiday, you see I had to get my parents because ..."

"Very interesting, Miss Granger," Prof. Slughorn commented while she was still talking.

Ron was partially relieved because he had already heard the story from Hermione a couple times, but Slughorn was rude, and if he asked Harry again, that would be boring since Harry was mostly at the Burrow.

Horace worked through a couple other students before relating some of his stories. He had been at the school, and had fought He Who Must Be Named himself, while still in his pajamas.

A few of the people in the compartment exchanged glances. They had been there and it wasn't so long ago that they couldn't remember.

Harry commented, "The damage to the school is all taken care of? Hogwarts looked good when I was there."

"Of course, Harry. There's no need to worry about that. It's good as new with magic."

"There's even a bit of sparkle on some of the stones," Neville added. "It's quite a thing to see at sunrise."

"Prof. McGonagall sounded like she'd be more busy than usual," Harry continued, trying to stay on the subject of school. "Headmistress, Transfiguration, still Gryffindor's head of house."

"She's an old hand at all that. She's been deputy headmistress for a long time, and very competent."

"Seemed a bit stressed during my testing," Ron said. "Snape giving her a hard time about sharing an office?"

"Professor Snape," came from a surprising source. Neville.

"Beggars can't be choosers," Horace replied airily.

"What?" Neville asked, while Harry simultaneously asked, "How's that?"

"Someone in his condition and with that sort of reputation should be lucky to be employed, much less allowed to remain headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Professor Slughorn," Neville addressed him, his face already turning red, "you may not have been paying attention when ..."

"To what? That story? It's outlandish. I can hardly believe your grandmother was so easily hoodwinked, Longbottom."

"She was at the final battle too, Professor. We cannot discuss this in front of students. You may have been involved in a discussion with Prof. Flitwick when that was mentioned during the staff meeting yesterday."

"How do you know what was discussed at the staff meeting yesterday?"

"I was there. I'm a staff member."

"Since when?"

"Since Prof. Sprout recommended me for a post."

"Well, now that the repairs are complete, won't you be moving on?"

"No, there's work, even though I finished the rearrangement of the greenhouses for Prof. Sprout."

"There is?"

"Yes, inside the castle, Professor. Did you invite me here to repeat everything you missed at yesterday's meeting?"

"No, I must have forgotten you took your NEWTs."

"It's understandable, since you were away all summer, Professor."

Neville was not looking to start something with a senior staff member, but Prof. Slughorn had been having his own conversations yesterday while Prof. McGonagall was briefing them. She had chastised him a couple of times to keep quiet, but then she'd say something that would remind him of some incident and he'd start up again. Also, the part about him saying anything about Prof. Snape was uncalled for and misleading. It could be a mistake, but it could also be intentional. There was some dispute between them when Prof. Snape said he needed a potions lab in the dungeons for working with a potions mistress, Neville had not caught the name but definitely heard 'mistress'. Prof. Slughorn must know who it was because he had argued about some potions rules and whoever she was, she did not follow them.

Harry appreciated Neville following the rules, but what did Prof. Slughorn have to say about Snape? The part about the reputation was a bunch of rubbish since Harry, and probably everyone in here, knew Snape was a spy and had been on Dumbledore's side.

"I agree with Prof. Slughorn," Ginny announced. "He should have gone to Azkaban."

Harry gave her a look. Ginny already knew how he felt about this. If Draco and Lucius Malfoy and their lot did not go to Azkaban, then why Snape? It was not a crime to be a git, even of Snape's epic proportions.

Hermione stood, excusing herself, "I need to go now. Thank you for inviting me, professor."

Having missed Hermione's earlier explanation, Ron was still cognizant enough to realize she may be going to the front of the train early to the prefect meeting, just to do whatever she had in mind with the head girl, but Ron hadn't gotten a turn to speak yet about his summer and what he did during the battle so he was going to stay a bit longer.

Prior to reaching the front compartment used by the prefects with the head boy and head girl, Hermione found one with the windows darkened with a sign affixed to the door indicating it was for 'Faculty'.

She knocked on that door, and Prof. Sprout opened it.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"I think Neville's trapped with Prof. Slughorn and I didn't know if …" Hermione saw past the Herbology teacher and saw Prof. Snape lying across one of the seats with his hand over his eyes, "Are you all right, Prof. Snape?"

Severus was already aware of Granger's compulsion to nose into everything, and had forewarning when Prof. Sprout mentioned that Granger was outside their door, since they could see out but students could not see in.

He removed his hand and complained, "I'm bored."

Hermione's indignation was clear on her face. Bored? Well who told him to ride on the train? Couldn't he have brought a book? And that was pretty insulting to Prof. Sprout. She barely kept her tone civil as she replied, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Enjoying how easily Granger took offense, Severus suggested, "Your idea of a 'rescue mission' for Longbottom is too pathetic to relieve it, Granger. If you'd like him back, Prof. Sprout, by all means go save the Gryffindor from Prof. Slughorn."

Putting her hands on her hips, Hermione offered a further explanation, "Neville does not need rescuing. I thought he may not want to offend Prof. Slughorn, but there were other things he should be doing."

"You can't get over the fact that he managed to survive all that time without you hissing instructions in his ear, Granger? Or is it that he secured a position at Hogwarts within a month of graduating?"

Undoubtedly this verbal banter was obviously improving Severus' well-being, but Pomona saw no need to raise a student's blood pressure much higher so waved Miss Granger back with a parting comment to the headmaster, "I'll fetch him for you, Severus."

His reply to that was hardly started when Prof. Sprout slid the door closed.

"I'm not getting Neville into trouble, am I, Prof. Sprout?"

"Are you accusing Prof. Longbottom of something, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Professor? But if Neville was really good at Herbology, and Prof. Sprout was here, that did not make sense.

"Let me get him before Horace talks to him until he's at the point that he's as comatose as Severus then."

Pomona was well aware that Severus was not comatose, but had some new pain that was making his legs between his knees and hips hurt, including the joints, and it was relieved by stretching his legs out. They guessed it was caused by standing on the platform, but it had not been for a long time, and he had felt fine while out there. Severus had considered apparating back to Hogwarts, but then admitted he would only have a lie down there so it did not matter where he was. Here at least, Minerva would not be checking on him, and could get on with what she was doing to finish preparations for the students.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the mention of Prof. Snape. Harry must have gotten something wrong. The only thing that Hermione could find him thinking of as a curse was Harry and probably any student that was not in Slytherin.

There were three Ravenclaws in the prefect compartment. Luna Lovegood was reading a Quiddler while wearing a pair of those ridiculous cardboard hypnospecs , right side up for once, along with Chambers and Bradley, two boys, who had also been a year behind Hermione.

"Oh, hello Hermione. Were you just speaking to Prof. Snape?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"The wrackspurt on your shoulder appears stunned."

Hermione was not falling for that one, and purposely did not look at either of her shoulders. Wrackspurts … and now the sound of Prof. Snape's voice stunned them. Then there was the realization that Luna was wearing the head girl badge. She hadn't even been a prefect. No one listened to her. How could they have made Luna Lovegood head girl?

Chambers went along with Lovegood's joke, and added, "Yes, Lovegood was giving us a hint that we should let Prof. Snape yell at us prior to taking any tests."

"Hey, don't tell Granger, she's in Gryffindor," Bradley complained. "The cup's going to Ravenclaw this year."

"I doubt that," Hermione muttered. With Snape as headmaster, it would be going to Slytherin.

"Oh, 'cause of Potter and quidditch? Well you're on, Granger," Bradley said, accepting the bet that Hermione had not made. He stood, stretched and said, "Well, let me get back there before Gryffindors empty the trolley. See you later."

Looking at his pocket watch, Chambers mentioned, "You're a bit early, Granger. Eager to get back to school?"

**** Neville the Mighty ** Master of virility ** Every woman wants him ** He's so sexy it's a sin ** If you want a special tryst ** He's the man you can't resist ** It's Neville, Neville the Mighty ****

(AN: ripped off from Joxer the Mighty, Bordello version)

Prof. Sprout opened the door to Prof. Slughorn's compartment and called, "Horace, have you finished monopolizing Prof. Longbottom yet?"

"It was my mistake, Pomona. I forgot Neville was no longer a student."

"Ha," she scoffed in reply, "you don't forget anything, Horace Slughorn. Not one name, not one face, and not one story."

Harry was not the only one that laughed at that. He was glad that Neville was not in any trouble, but was Prof. Sprout calling Neville professor as a joke or was Neville going to teach something? He hadn't mentioned anything about his job being more than doing things in the greenhouses, and Harry had assumed he'd only be helping out Prof. Sprout.

"So Prof. Longbottom?" Harry asked Prof. Slughorn, once the door was closed.

Horace shrugged, "What can you expect? If Prof. McGonagall was appointed headmistress, sole head that is, I'm sure all the vacancies would have been filled."

Harry sensed that Slughorn had some ax to grind against Snape. It may get him some information, but so far, Harry had caught a couple falsehoods and it appeared that if Slughorn could conveniently forget that Neville was now a staff member, he could probably say nonsense about Snape too.

"Luckily she has you, Professor," was Harry's reply.

"No one listens to me, Harry. Age and experience means so little these days. Not that I'm blaming you … you deserve all the accolades you've received, Harry. Well earned, and you're probably owed a lot more."

Harry rolled his eyes, and caught sight of Ron and Ginny doing the same thing. He had only tried to kiss up a little to find out some things, not turn this into the Harry Potter admiration society.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

On the platform, Hermione pushed through the crowd and asked Ron, "Where were you?"

"Hello to you too."

"Why didn't you come up to the front of the train with the other prefects?"

"I was busy."

"No, you weren't," Ginny disagreed.

"It's not for you to judge whether you should be there or not, Ron. Luna's head girl and Chambers is head boy."

"Good for Luna. Chambers' a right git though. They must be kissing up to Ravenclaw heavy this year, huh?"

"Will you two stop?" Harry complained.

There was a falsetto whine that followed, "Yeah, you two, stop it. I want to cry about quidditch. I'm not captain and neither is my uppity girlfriend anymore. Boo hoo hoo."

It was dark and crowded with a lot of people's mouths moving as they talked among themselves. There were no platinum blonds in sight as Harry spun in a full circle.

"Stick it up your arse, Urquhart," Ginny snarled.

A bunch of younger Slytherins laughed at them as they made their way to the carriages.

"Urquhart? Oh yeah, he's still here."

"Yeah, this will be his third year as captain. Stupid Slytherins."

"What was he saying about you?"

"I was quidditch captain last year, Harry."

"You were?"

"Yes, there was quidditch without Harry Potter. Hard to imagine, huh?" Ginny joked.

"No … I mean, you never mentioned it."

"It wasn't that important. With mum not letting me say I was coming back right away, I figured you'd be made captain again, and you just didn't want to tell me. You are, aren't you? Oh wait, if Urquhart said we were both not captain, he must know who the Gryffindor captain is."

"Bradley is captaining Ravenclaw," Hermione added.

"Stop standing around talking about quidditch and get moving," Prof. Sprout exclaimed while fluttering her hands to indicate they should move towards the carriages. "Gryffindors never change, do they? Quidditch, quidditch and more quidditch."

Hermione blushed. She was not interested in quidditch, and being caught talking about it by a professor was embarrassing.

"Come on."

Harry asked, "Did you stay up front, or walk back through the train?"

"I performed my prefect duties, unlike somebody else."

"Who wants to march back and forth on the train?"

"Cut it out. So who's still here?"

Hermione guessed at who Harry meant, "Draco's done, Harry. There's only a handful of people from our year that returned to school."

"Oh. I guess that's good. I won't get in as much trouble than."

"I'm sure you'll think of something, Harry," Hermione replied. "I did see Prof. Snape. I had stopped at the faculty compartment and let Prof. Sprout know Neville was being detained by Prof. Slughorn."

"And?"

"And what? He seemed like himself."

"Enough about Snape," Ron complained. "He's milking some rumor about a curse so get over it. Do you remember how long Malfoy wore that sling after he provoked Buckbeak? What did I miss, Hermione?"

"It seems that Chambers knows he's pretty much in charge, but he was polite. When Luna had something to say, he let her say it, and he didn't laugh."

"That's good," Harry replied.

"He's efficient and already put together some schedules. I did not want to draw attention to the fact that you were skiving off the meeting so did not mention you."

"Great. I don't want Chambers ordering me about anyway."

Hermione shook her head in disgust. Luna may be a very forgiving person, but from what she saw today, Chambers was organized and all business. It may not take him long to realize that there was a rogue prefect wandering the halls, docking points and taking liberties. If not, Prof. McGonagall may notice it first, even though Harry told them she'd be busy with much more than she did in the past. That might be an exaggeration, since there was also a headmaster. Prof. Snape was acting strange since she had seen him lying down twice now, but Hermione was not convinced that he was impaired by a curse. Mentally, he still seemed as sharp as ever.

** I read about it in Hogwarts, A History ** I read about it in Hogwarts, A History ** I read about it in Hogwarts, A History ** I read about it in Hogwarts, A History **

Apparating with Prof. Snape from Hogsmeade up to the Great Hall left Neville with spare time on his hands while they waited for the students to arrive. Spending hours with Prof. Snape had left him with nothing to talk about. Prof. Sprout had done the questioning about yesterday's visit from that healer. She probably knew everything from Prof. McGonagall since the headmistress was vocal in her disappointment over the healer's reassurances that never seemed to come to fruition. The only certainty was that Prof. Snape would not be pregnant forever. It only seemed to be forever, and it was getting close to half over.

Neville was staring at the ceiling, contemplating the view of the nighttime sky when other teachers started filing in and greeted him. He had remained standing on the side closer to the Gryffindor table. This was the first time that he'd be sitting at the Head Table with the entire staff, and he was concerned that he'd accidentally take someone's preferred seat. There were enough chairs for everyone. Neville knew which was Hagrids's and Prof. Flitwick's, and that Prof. Snape and Prof. McGonagall had the two more ornate chairs in the center. Prof. Snape had already seated himself in the one closer to Slytherin.

He had not told Prof. Snape anything about what Prof. Slughorn said about him. Neville was not even sure if he should tell Prof. McGonagall. The spat over allowing this potions mistress access to the school to brew something with Prof. Snape would be a moot point by next week. Prof. Slughorn did not say anything definite other than this woman was banned from brewing or something like that. If someone should be banned from brewing, it was Neville. If Prof. Snape was willing to work with her, Neville was willing to overlook whatever archaic potions master and mistress political thing was going on. Neville certainly never had to worry about applying to be a member of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers.

Working closely with Prof. Snape on things other than potions was all right so far. Neville was being careful not to get the headmaster upset, and he felt that Prof. Snape knew that he had little choice but to work with the spare staff member, until more qualified staff could be found. There had been applicants, but they fell short in a variety of ways. Due to his strict requirements for teaching, Prof. Snape now ended up with two subjects, and would be overseeing the younger classes that Neville would be teaching. He hoped the second and third year students were young enough to respect him, rather than call him Neville in class.

Prof. Vector patted the chair next to her and suggested, "Why don't you take this one, Neville?"

"Thanks. I didn't want to … you know."

She shrugged, "If they really wanted a particular chair, they should put their name on the back. From here, you have a clear view of the Gryffindors, and with Hagrid between you and the headmistress and headmaster, you'll be able to get in a few discreet waves."

"I've already told my friends that I have to act professional."

"Who are you more afraid of Minerva or Severus?"

"Uh … I think both equally. Prof. McGonagall has high expectations."

"I thought you were intimidated by Severus."

"Each time I've seen him throw up has reduced the intimidation level."

"How many times did that take?"

"Um … we're about to eat."

"That many? Minerva said he was ill."

"Not as bad as earlier in the summer."

Septima nodded, "Minerva mentioned that. As soon as she determines if it was Slytherin, she's setting his portrait alight."

"I think we need to wait till the end for that answer."

"I doubt that's going to come soon enough for any of us."

Prof. Flitwick led the first years into the hall, and the sorting began.

Over at the Gryffindor table, Ron complained, "Hurry up already. I'm hungry."

Ginny asked, "How could you be? You ate more than even Slughorn on the train."

"You skived off your prefect duties to eat?" Hermione asked without hiding the note of disappointment in her voice.

"I did not."

"You did eat a lot," Harry added.

"Who's mate are you?"

"Yours, but we're a year older than seventh years so maybe we should act that way," Harry replied. "You know that we always have traditional things to do before the feast, Ron. This is our last year, and perhaps I'd like to savor not having some blood-thirsty, power-crazed maniac out to kill me, and enjoy school."

"Enjoy school?" Ron repeated in an insulted tone.

"That would be preferable to hating it," Harry snapped in disgust.

"I don't hate it," Ron refuted. "Just that I'd wish they'd get a move on. They're always so slow."

"Just shut up," Ginny sneered.

"Oi, you can't tell me to shut up. I'm a prefect."

"Not for long," Hermione refuted. "You only want the benefits, but don't do any of the work or accept any responsibility."

"What's wrong with all of you tonight?" Ron complained.

"The bottomless pit of Ottery St. Catchpole," Ginny answered.

Harry wondered if the sibling squabbling was going to be a constant at every meal. He had hoped with Ginny's return to Hogwarts that she'd turn her attentions to others, now that she was not under house arrest with Ron. Perhaps it was the two of them traveling on the train together in Slughorn's compartment that still had her wound up, and tomorrow some git, like Urquhart, would be on the receiving end of Ginny's temper from across the hall. For a moment, Harry almost missed Draco Malfoy. Almost. Well, actually not almost, not at all. There were plenty of Slytherins that had to potential to be complete arses. And as a matter of fact, so did Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Plenty of non-Gryffindors in the school to get riled up over.

Hermione asked, "Harry, do you see any new teachers up there?"

"Um … there's Neville."

"Besides him."

"No, I don't see any."

"You said Prof. McGonagall was still teaching Transfiguration, but who's teaching Defense and Muggle Studies?"

"Prof. Sprout called Neville Prof. Longbottom. Maybe he's teaching one of them."

Hermione adopted a worried look on her face and commented, "I hope Prof. Snape isn't too rough on him. It'll take time for Neville to build up his confidence. Older students might not behave in class either."

"How cool would it be though to have Neville teaching Defense?" Ron added. "We wouldn't have homework, and he'll let us know what we're going to be tested on ..."

Horrified, Hermione exclaimed, "Ron!"

"Yeah, Ron's auror material alright," Ginny mocked.

"That would give me more time to study for my NEWTs," Ron bluffed.

When Prof. McGonagall stood after the Sorting, she led the students in the school song, before making a few announcements.

"Thank you for your attention, students. Many of you are still exhibiting high spirits, which is completely understandable. However, now that school here at Hogwarts has resumed, a little restraint will be necessary. Prof. Snape is still headmaster," she paused to let the noise die, "and I am sharing the post as headmistress. Neville Longbottom joined the Hogwarts staff early in the summer, and I'm sure you all know what a capable young man he proved himself to be in May. Please join me in welcoming Prof. Longbottom."

Neville blushed at the applause and cheers. He had not gone to many of the celebrations since they had made him a bit uncomfortable, especially when there was so much that needed doing around Hogwarts. He did like going to ones where he could see Hannah, and he was now at the point where he could ask her to meet him in Hogsmeade once a week for dinner or a drink. She was really nice, and since Hannah had been here last year, Neville did not need to talk about what he did since she had helped him with a lot of it.

When Prof. McGonagall sat down, Ron groaned when Prof. Snape stood, and went over the rules before summoning the feast.

"Maybe stupid firsties and cocky second and third years should learn first hand why it's called the Forbidden Forest," Ron muttered.

"It's such a crock that he's still here," Ginny complained while pouring some juice.

"Not again," Harry moaned.

"You already told us how much extra work Prof. McGonagall has, what's he going to be doing? Stalking around, punishing students, being a crabby old git who's uptight because he's so ugly he can't get any."

"Get any what?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing," Harry denied, however Ron was simultaneously answering in a loud, laughing voice, "Snape's a virgin. Even with him getting an Order of Merlin. He's just so damned ugly and greasy and ..."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, clearly affronted. Her voice cut into his description of all Prof. Snape's lack of charms, "that is no business of ours. How do you even know something like that?"

Harry had tried to cover up for Ron, but since he had to go opening his big mouth, Harry would let him explain what happened since he hadn't even been there.

"Oh, you've been waving your Order of Merlin around to get free shags?" Ginny goaded. She was sick of Ron nosing in between Harry and her. Ginny definitely knew Harry did not do such things with his fame because he was as frustrated as her by the interference of the whole Weasley family, not just her mother.

"What?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Didn't you just claim that's what it was good for? Getting laid?"

"Cut it out, Ginny. It's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is when it's me. You don't ask Harry if he's a virgin, do you?"

"Huh?" Harry asked. How did this become about him? His cheeks got hot, even before he noticed that their discussion was amusing some Hufflepuffs at the next table.

"Don't be stupid," Hermione demanded. "This has gone far enough, and if I were you, Ron, I would not bring up such nonsense again."

"Me?"

"You're the one who started this."

"No, it was Ginny. She was the one blabbing about Snape."

"You're the one who had to know, Ron," Ginny refuted.

"Why would you want to know that?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't," Ron replied.

"Let's just drop it," Harry interjected.

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

Hermione concurred that it was an unpleasant topic for casual conversation. She had not liked what she heard from both Ron and Ginny.

Ron was continuing his attack on any pudding unable to escape him when Hermione stood to usher students to Gryffindor tower. She looked at Ron, but then did not bother asking as he overloaded a spoon with a quivering mountain of confection.

"I guess I'll see you all later," was her parting words to her friends, delivered icily. Perhaps Ron should have stayed home with his mother. Instead of maturing, he appeared to be regressing in her eyes, along with Ginny.

It was clear that the fifth year prefects wanted to lead, so Hermione followed along, rather than returning to see how many more empty dessert glasses had joined the pile around her boyfriend and admitting she was superfluous.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Chapter 11**

When they received their class schedules the next morning, Ron moaned that Herbology was first thing on Wednesdays and Fridays. He preferred it later in the day, so the sun warmed the greenhouses to something toasty in the winter, and previous classes heading out over the lawn plowed a path through the snow.

Hermione responded it was older students who made the paths, rather than letting first years get stuck out there, and now they were the seventh years.

Harry did not find anything wrong with their schedule. It was actually close to perfect with Friday afternoons off for Ron and him. Today they had Herbology, Defense, lunch, and then their double Potions. Tomorrow was a late start with only Charms, and Transfiguration after lunch. Perhaps homework would be a bit much on Mondays and Tuesdays, but Harry had expected homework when he decided to return to school. In addition to Hermione mentioning NEWTs at least once a day, every day.

For today, since it was only September second, the walk to Herbology and back was very pleasant. Despite everything, Harry was happy to be back at Hogwarts and walking about the grounds as a group, and even holding Ginny's hand for bits of it.

When they queued outside Defense, they were curious who was teaching it because there was no rumors yet since it was only the first day. Their mouths collectively dropped when Neville opened the door from within.

Ron's mouth quickly adapted to a huge grin. This was absolutely brilliant.

Ginny felt a bit like Ron, but did not imagine a class with no homework and all the test answers handed over to her. Simply that it would be one of her easiest classes.

Harry was happy for Neville, but disappointed. There was probably something new that Harry could learn, but how much more could Neville really know than him?

Hermione was nervous. Mostly for Neville. He looked flustered before they even entered the classroom. There were some students that might even be slightly older than him, besides being more knowledgeable, and not afraid to let Neville know it. She dearly hoped Harry wouldn't blurt out something insensitive during class. Perhaps she could help Neville prepare, without anyone knowing. It hadn't worked with Hagrid back when Umbridge was here, but Neville should certainly be more sensible.

Neville was nervous. He knew that he was free when Prof. Snape was supposed to teach Defense in case he was incapacitated. His second year class had been nice, and then once the last second year left the room, a house elf dropped the news on him like an incontinent owl that Prof. Snape was indisposed and would try to join the class as soon as he was able. On the first day, the seventh year class. Oh no. But Neville knew what he was supposed to do, and he could do it. There were notes. Notes for every class. He shut the door and reviewed them. Taking attendance and collecting homework would take a short bit of time before Neville needed to refer back to the actual lesson plan. Looking at the text, Neville felt he was ready by the time it came to start class.

What annoyed Neville though was how many times he had to ask the students to be quiet, take their seats, and ask them to pay attention. Even his friends, except Hermione, were acting like this was a party rather than class. What if Prof. Snape came in and saw this going on? How was he expected to cover anything if he couldn't get them to surrender their homework? He could do the attendance without their help since he knew everyone in here.

From Hermione's point of view, Neville appeared to have developed a nervous tick, He kept looking at the door, like he expected either Prof. McGonagall or Prof. Snape to hear the racket in the hall, or even all the way up in the head's tower office, and come in here and sack him.

Hermione, then some of the prefects in addition to Chambers, started making shushing noises. Having Professor Longbottom was a good thing, and they didn't want to go ruining it on the first day.

The noise increased as the class mobbed the desk to deposit their summer essays where Neville indicated. Fearing that this would be the last time he was heard for the rest of class, he continued telling the students as they came up in an unruly mob, "There is no need for discussion at this time. Put your assignments here, and return to your seats." He then added, "And shut up."

Neville knew that is not the way Prof. Snape said it, but 'Settle down' and 'Quiet' were not working. Actually, he may be imagining things but he thought he heard Prof. Snape's voice in his head silkily instructing, "Quiet."

All talking ceased. Oh, Prof. Snape was here. He was standing in the doorway, and he looked ill to Neville, or maybe annoyed at the what was going on in here.

After the students gave each other looks, whispering began.

Hermione was steaming. How dare Prof. Snape interrupt? He barely gave Neville a chance. The class had been a bit out of control, but it was not anarchy. They were turning in their assignments.

The other Gryffindors thought along similar lines. The great greasy git set Neville up to fail.

Equally excited were the Slytherins. Not all of them supported what Prof. Snape had done, but their former head of house tearing Neville Longbottom a new one was always entertaining. The stupid lump pretending to be a teacher … what a joke, and they were ready for the punch line.

Prof. Snape sat heavily in the chair behind the desk after nodding at Neville. Opening the bottom drawer, he opened a white paper bag and took a piece of ginger crystallized with sugar. After putting it in his mouth, he picked up the bag and extended it towards Neville.

Neville knew in that moment he was not in trouble and took a piece.

"I took attendance and collected the homework, Prof. Snape," he stated before enjoying his own sharp piece of candy. Neville did not have the taste of vomit to get out of his mouth, but ginger was good in moderation. He sat down and enjoyed it. Neville was not sure how well the headmaster was at the moment, but considering how terrible Defense was last year, sitting through a class taught by Prof. Snape would hardly be boring. Today's subject was a matter that Neville could improve in.

"I said quiet," Prof. Snape repeated in a deadly tone, not bothering to raise his voice. "Seventh years, although some of you have nothing better to do with your time since you believe your celebrity makes NEWTs obsolete, the rest of the class does not have that distinction."

"Oy!" Ron uttered accusatorily while others stared daggers at the teacher.

"Silence."

Prof. Snape glared at them, seemingly looking into each individual's eyes, daring them to speak out of turn. Harry couldn't believe he forgot how much he hated Snape.

"For those of you who do not have brilliant careers planned living as glorified barnacles on the Ministry, you might be interested in continuing to take the word 'defense' to heart. It's not only Dark Arts that are a danger. Some of you may have realized there are unscrupulous wizards, and even muggles, that might prove dangerous, without them having to unleash the forces of dark magic directly upon you."

For long minutes, Prof. Snape questioned them, looking for suggestions on how to respond to different scenarios he suggested. Paranoid git. Paranoid git who took points for stupid answers. Paranoid git who took points for stupid answers, and anyone he called upon who could not answer satisfactorily. That was until Luna Lovegood was called upon and launched into a description of what preventive measures she would take to protect her family and home.

Snape let her continue, since she was serious, rather than giving him intentionally smart ass answers. When she concluded, he commented, "That might work, Miss Lovegood. Certainly would be unexpected. Two points to Ravenclaw."

Hermione had not been entertained by the outlandish Lovegood defense system that would be more suited to the plot of a _Home Alone_ movie, and was miffed that Luna was awarded points. Was she secretly a favorite of Prof. Snape's? Hermione didn't think so because the professor did not look particularly pleased like he used to when Slytherins, especially Malfoy, did something right in Potions.

She was so distracted that Hermione failed to notice until the professor was well into his lecture on warding that Prof. Snape was sitting. She did not remember him sitting in sixth year when he taught Defense, or was it because he had hijacked Neville's class and this was his method for showing his disdain for them all?

After assigning two separate assignments for homework, both unfairly long, Prof. Snape dismissed the class.

The four of them, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, waited outside the classroom for Neville, rather than heading to Gryffindor tower or lunch. At the very least, Hermione felt they should give Neville some words of encouragement that he might appreciate after whatever telling-off Prof. Snape was giving him in there.

The others were willing to be supportive of Neville too, but were slightly more interested in telling off Snape if Neville came out looking like he just had a potions class with the nasty git.

Ron had just suggested after a wait of close to five minutes, "I think we should go in there," when the door to the Defense classroom opened.

The smile that was on Neville's face disappeared and his conversation with Prof. Snape ground to a halt.

It was Snape that asked, "What do you lot want?"

Challengingly, Harry replied, "We were waiting for Professor Longbottom."

"Since Prof. Slughorn is not present, shall I assume Miss Granger rounded you up with the plan of saving Prof. Longbottom from me?"

"I did not," sputtered Hermione.

Neville's cheeks flushed. He was getting on better than anyone could hope with Prof. Snape. Was Hannah Abbott the only person his age that did not find it unbelievable? Hannah told him that she was proud of how well he was doing here, and mentioned that it was simply the rest of the staff, besides Prof. Sprout, recognizing his talent, not to mention how brave he was at the Battle of Hogwarts.

More to Longbottom, than to the gathered crowd, Severus murmured, "I'm going down to lunch."

Neville stayed close to Severus as he moved away from the now warded and closed door, commenting, "I can come with you, Professor."

"I can manage. You might as well find out what was so important that even Harry Potter was made to wait."

His mind was thinking about the number of stairs between the Defense classroom and the Great Hall, along with jinxing students, when Neville was interrupted by the outcry of the Gryffindors at Prof. Snape's slight of Harry. He snapped, "What?" at them, and in reply, all Neville received was mutters of 'greasy git', 'selfish bat', 'sodding wanker' and 'bloody tosspot'.

Looking around, Neville was relieved that Prof. Snape had already left the area, but what had the professor done that got them so incensed? Neville accepted that covering a class or part of one when the professor was not up to teaching was part of the job he was doing here at Hogwarts. Initially, it was only for the summer and the greenhouses for Prof. Sprout, but when she was here, there was no reason why he could not teach basic Defense to younger students and keep an eye out for Prof. Snape due to his condition. If the headmaster was making an effort to be cooperative, why couldn't his friends let it go?

"Are you all right, Neville?" Hermione asked, trying to redirect them to their real reason for being here.

"Yeah. What's wrong with all of you?"

"Snape!"

"Huh?" Neville had sat through the whole class. The professor mentioned some interesting things that were not in his lesson notes, mostly based on a question from Luna Lovegood, so he was happy to stay and learn something new. That was due to Neville knew Professor Snape knew loads of things, but he was not sure what questions he should ask to learn all that. Conversationally, potions with regards to its use of plants was fascinating, and they could talk about that for hours, like they did on the train yesterday with Prof. Sprout.

"Stupid git had no right barging into your class like that," Ginny complained.

"Yeah, like he wants to be Umbridge," Harry added.

"He's not stupid," Neville clarified. "And I don't know what you are on about. I was collecting homework and taking attendance until Prof. Snape arrived to teach his class. I admit you were all acting up, but Prof. Snape knows how you all are and did not blame me for it."

"His class?" Ginny uttered.

"No!" Ron denied in an anguished tone.

"Why's he gotta teach?" was Harry's question.

"If Prof. McGonagall is teaching, why not Prof. Snape?" Hermione suggested.

"What's wrong with all of you? We've had Prof. Snape before for Defense. He's better than anyone else we had," Neville said.

"Prof. Lupin was the best," contradicted Harry.

"He's rubbish," Ginny declared.

"Even Moody was ..." Ron started.

"A Death Eater that tortured my parents," Neville corrected. "Why are you making such a big deal over it? He's not going to be able to teach the entire year so you might as well get your knickers untwisted. And nothing against Prof. Lupin and teaching us the basics about Dark creatures, but I think I learnt a lot sixth year from Prof. Snape."

"He's slipped Neville a potion," Ron stated. "Prof. Snape this, Prof. Snape that."

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione complained.

"What's wrong that he won't be able to teach? What will he do with himself when he can't take points from Gryffindor?" Harry speculated.

"Shrivel up and die finally," Ginny answered.

Harry gave Ginny a sharp look. That's not what he meant.

"Why are you such immature prats? I haven't been slipped some potion. What's wrong with me working with Prof. Snape and the rest of the Hogwarts staff? I could just as easily take attendance in Transfiguration, or even Potions."

"Why was he late anyway? I can't waltz into class whenever I feel like it," Harry demanded.

"Because he's headmaster and you're not, Harry."

"That's only because of Voldemort," was Harry's sullen reply.

"Rather than whinging about how unfair it is to go to school, what do you want?"

"We were worried about you, Neville," Hermione responded.

"I'm a big boy now. I did all right for myself without you around last year to make it to here, didn't I?"

Ginny snorted. Neville had gotten into plenty of tight spots last year before he went into hiding. He did not do everything alone.

Neville's words hurt Hermione. She had not meant that Neville was incompetent nor that he could not get along without her, and he should have realized that.

"So you just were lurking around here to be a nuisance?"

"No, Neville," Hermione answered quickly, before someone else said something. "We thought that Prof. Snape had interrupted your class because he wasn't giving you a fair chance."

With a disbelieving look, Neville replied, "I'm only teaching first through third years, and Prof. Snape's already got a lesson plan together for me so it's not like he's not a help."

"That's 'cause he don't trust you, mate," Ron assured him.

"No, because he already had them written up from when he last taught the subject. He also leaned heavily on Carrow to follow them, not just me."

"Why?"

"Because they are based on what students need to know for their OWLs and NEWTs. Unlike some teachers, he actually wants his students to learn what they're supposed to and know how to cast the spells, rather than some theoretical crap."

"What a load of rubbish," Ginny squawked. "He's using you, Neville."

"I'm aware I work for him already, and it's not the torture you're making it out to be. If that's all you wanted, perhaps I'll go to lunch myself."

"Wait. Are you really all right, Neville?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, and stop trying to save me. I'm fine."

Ron let out a skeptical snort. How could anyone working for that git think they were fine?


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 12**

Neville thought himself calmed down by the time he reached the Great Hall. Really, all they had to do was give it a bit of thought. They'd learn way more during the couple months Prof. Snape taught their class than they would with someone like Lockhart or Umbridge for an entire year.

Besides, Prof. Snape, or more like Prof. McGonagall, was working on getting a temporary replacement. It was sort of underhanded in a way, and Neville really didn't see how it would work. Not that he was jealous or anything, because things were going well with Hannah, and even knowing what he knew, Neville could not think of Prof. Snape like that. Actually, it was kind of funny because it didn't seem that Prof. Snape knew anything about it, other than knowing Hogwarts needed more staff members. And the last thing Neville was going to do was tell Prof. Snape what Prof. McGonagall was up to, and vice versa. They could both be dangerous.

Neville had been meaning to ask Hermione … wait, no, he could not ask her since she didn't know anything about the curse, other than Prof. Snape got cursed. Eventually, she'd know, but Neville would want to know now rather than months from now. He knew the old wives' tale about pregnant witches being able to cast powerful defensive spells. There was even a rumor that Harry's mother might have been pregnant with a second child when He Who Must Not Be Named was defeated the first time.

However, Prof. Snape was already a very powerful wizard, and Neville didn't think that because he was a Potions Master, something he'd never accomplish. Although they glossed over it, someone turned those Death Eaters into pillars of salt and was powerful enough to do it to He Who Must Not Be Named himself. That was large scale transfiguration that had even impressed Prof. McGonagall, except for the fact that it was Dark Arts to turn people into salt for some reason. Neville didn't understand why salt was bad. If Neville could do something like that, he'd turn them all into puddles of water so they would have soaked into the earth beneath them.

There was also the freak lightning that was ruled a fortunate stroke of good luck. The only thing Prof. Snape admitted that he did alter the consistency of the courtyard paving stones to prevent Death Eaters from entering the school. Part of the headmaster's duty to use the school in any manner necessary to protect the lives of students, and any Death Eater intending harm was considered a trespasser. Neville didn't remember anything about the courtyard that day, but suspected that Prof. Snape targeted individuals, rather than his claim that the school defenses acted on their own.

Therefore, Prof. McGonagall's broad hint that Prof. Snape had changed, was still changing, and that the physical changes could be permanent to that big, black auror friend of Harry's, who seemed quite interested in Prof. Snape, could be a cartload of dragon dung. If Visitors' Day on Sunday was anything to go by, that auror was persistent with claiming he needed to stay close to Prof. Snape for his protection, and Prof. Snape was about as flirtatious as a blast-ended skrewt. Neville was surprised the man retained both his hands that got a bit friendly with the headmaster's person. Not anywhere critical, but Shacklesbelt, or whatever, kept trying to take hold of the professor's elbow near stairs and whatnot. Anyway, the man was barking mad which therefore made him a perfect instructor for Defense against the Dark Arts.

Neville's humorous thoughts about someone trying to woo Prof. Snape ground to a halt as he entered the staff door of the Great Hall for lunch. There were no set rules about who sat where, except don't take the heads' seats, or Prof. Flitwick's or Prof. Hagrid's seats, but Prof. McGonagall's side of the table had most of the staff, and there was a couple empty chairs separating Prof. Snape from the ones that sat on his side. Prof. Slughorn was seated on the other side of Prof. McGonagall. That would be what Neville would think was the wrong side of the staff table for him, considering he might like to keep an eye on his Slytherins.

What had he missed while he was arguing with his friends? Was Prof. Snape annoyed at his friends butting in and taken it out on the staff, when he got down here? Crap. Prof. McGonagall had warned them that Prof. Snape would be more emotional due to his condition, and it was beyond his control. Neville was not sure if he was nicer to him because he was a staff member, if Prof. Snape was playing some Slytherin game, or he was simply out of people he could trust. Anyway, normally Prof. Snape had a limited range of emotions, at least publicly, and Neville had hoped he would display positive ones during his pregnancy, rather than acting more viciously on his normal ones.

Girding himself for something horrid, Neville bravely put his hand on the back of the chair next to Prof. Snape and asked, "This chair taken?"

"No," Severus replied. "Did you want fish and chips again? You said you liked it yesterday, but if you were only humoring me, you don't have to have it for lunch a second day."

Neville glanced at the platter that the headmaster was offering. They had, at Prof. Snape's insistence, gone into muggle London and eaten this yesterday for lunch before the train.

"Do the house elves make a similar version? Yesterday's was surprisingly good."

Severus snorted, "When it's hot, fresh, and greasy, yes. The elves magicked the dish to keep it at the optimum serving temperature and viscosity."

"Thank you," Neville replied, as he relieved the headmaster of the dish.

"Hopefully I won't crave it for lunch again tomorrow. I'll get spotty."

Neville was not sure what to answer to that. Did Severus Snape just complain that he still got acne at his age?

From the headmaster's other side, Prof. McGonagall asked, "Severus, did you hear that?"

"What?"

"Horace said Harry Potter wants to reinstate the tradition of holding a Christmas Pageant at Hogwarts."

"He did?" Severus asked calmly. He was sure this was some new jest.

"Starring in it," Horace gleefully informed them. "With Harry Potter as the star, it's sure to be a huge success."

"With Harry Potter on the stage, there would be no need for anyone else to be in the show," Severus mockingly agreed. It might have been amusing if Draco was still a student. He had an excellent singing voice.

Since he was seated on the other side of Prof. Snape, Neville saw the slight smirk cross his face as he turned away from Prof. McGonagall following his pronouncement.

"What does he propose to do, Horace?" she asked. "Sing, dance, recite poetry, tell a Christmas tale …?"

"Why not all of that? Harry's a very talented young man."

Neville detected a slight exhalation of breath and a brief shake from Prof. Snape as he held in his laughter. Like the headmaster, Neville knew this sounded a bit odd. He had not been in Prof. Slughorn's compartment for long yesterday, but Harry didn't mention a Christmas pageant in front of him, and it really didn't sound like something Harry would volunteer for. If it was quidditch, sure, but a Christmas Pageant was not quidditch or involve any flying, unless Harry wanted to be some sort of fairy. A fairy? Neville started laughing.

There was a wicked gleam in Prof. Snape's eye as he met Neville's gaze. One of his eyebrows inched up, then he turned back to Prof. McGonagall, "This sounds like a wonderful opportunity, Prof. McGonagall. We could sell tickets."

Neville laughed more. Prof. Snape selling tickets to see Harry?

"Tickets?" Minerva repeated.

"I certainly don't have the head for finance you do, Headmistress, but you did complain that we rely too heavily on certain benefactors who in turn try to influence the running of the school."

"Hmm," she replied.

"If not, we can save the money for some rainy day or worthy cause," Prof. Snape suggested. "Even in good times, things are unpredictable."

Neville found that interesting. Did Prof. McGonagall handle the school finances alone? He doubted Prof. Snape's claim that he had no head for figures. With all the measuring in potions, he had to be halfway decent.

"It's worth considering," Minerva speculated, before she narrowed her eyes as she caught on. Severus would not be of any help come December. No wonder he was so accommodating with giving his blessing. He wouldn't be expected to lift a finger, much less be bothered to see whatever spectacle he imagined Harry Potter making, unless there was a photo on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_.

Horace was puzzled by Snape giving in so easily. What did his former student know that he did not? Did it have something to do with that foul Caliginous? He may have been apprenticed to the crone, but there was no need to engage in anything further with her once he attained his own mastery. Everyone knew Voldemort used his influence and paid for the apprenticeship with Malfoy money. Horace knew that somehow Snape repaid the debt to Malfoy long ago, prior to Severus even concluding his apprenticeship. Did Snape have some scheme of sacking him and letting that moth-eaten bitch teach here?

The current head of Slytherin was still silently fuming and considering what the headmaster was truly up to when Horace returned to his classroom. At the moment, Minerva was rather blind to the viper at her right-hand due to that bloody, blasted curse. Horace was dropping broad, yet untrue, hints that Snape was not cursed, simply lying, but Minerva knew better. A lot of people did, but with Snape, most people, especially those non-Slytherins who had been his students, preferred to think the worst of him. Pity that Longbottom was one of those noble-type Gryffindors, like Albus, who was a forgiving idiot. Everyone overlooked how brilliant and powerful Snape truly was. Horace, himself, was guilty of it. Snape was adept at letting someone else think they were in charge. Voldemort, Albus, now Minerva.

Horace knew that Albus concocted his bloody, foolhardy, martyr plan that ended in his death, but that never sat right with Horace. Why Snape? Why not ask a few others to think of options? Who was Albus's oldest friend but him, if he didn't count his goat-kissing brother and his old wanking buddy, Doge? Horace could have come up with something, if only he was asked. If only Albus had put as much faith in him as he did Snape. Then there was Snape himself, not saying a word for a whole year. Who could he trust more than his old head of house? Horace made no secret that he was never a member of Voldemort's gang. Why else had he gone into hiding?

The seventh year NEWT class drifted in while Horace contemplated what could be really going on. What was Snape's real plan? He had to have one. After all, he was more Slytherin than … hm, Horace thought the boy might be cagier than Salazar himself. Slytherin fought in the open with the other Founders and quit the field as part of a strategic retreat, while Snape was clearly duping everyone with his condition to stay in the center of things. Could he be the next major dark wizard to attempt to take over England, Europe or the world?

After welcoming the students back, collecting summer homework assignments and giving a brief overview of how difficult their final year of Potions studies would be at Hogwarts leading up to their NEWT, Horace warned them, "You may have noticed a posting on your house bulletin boards for NEWT level volunteers. Be advised, you will receive no extra credit from me for that endeavor. It is purely Prof. Snape's project."

Hermione's eyes lit up. A research project? Why hadn't she noticed that posting? As a prefect, she regularly looked at the bulletin board in case someone posted something inappropriate.

"Tandem brewing is against the guidelines of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Like coven type spell casting, it is frowned upon by modern magical society. A visiting Potions Mistress of dubious repute, Caliginous, is running it, but that one's cut from the same cloth as Prof. Snape. If things go pear-shaped, as they have a tendency to do in group magical practices, you can be sure they'll be concerned with their own safety first, then the project, before they spare you a thought."

Covens? Like what someone saw in a muggle movie? Hermione was definitely intersted in learning more, despite Prof. Slughorn's warning. She jotted down the name Caliginous to research it in the potion brewers' compendium in the library. Hermione already knew that Prof. Snape had a decently long entry, even though he was young and a teacher, rather than a researcher. Prof. Slughorn's was disappointingly short in comparison.

Harry frowned. Since when did Snape not care about students? Outwardly, he may act like he didn't give a crap, but after listening to months of people claiming that Snape was secretly helping them, Harry was not about to believe that if a potion blew up, that he'd knock someone out of the way to get the door first. No, Snape would want the person reasonably healthy enough to get chewed out, serve detention, and scrub everything spotless before writing miles of lines about what a dunderhead they were.

Ron had tuned out Slughorn's droning. Volunteer to work with Snape? No worries, mate. Ron Weasley was not a nutter.

Ginny hoped Snape did get blown up and finish the job that Voldemort bungled.

Sensing the Prof. Slughorn was the wrong source to go to, Hermione asked Ron and Ginny as soon as class finished, "What is tandem brewing and coven spell casting?"

"Oooh, don't go there, Hermione," Ginny warned.

"Yeah, it's a mess. Mum and dad might be able to do it together, but normally it's more likely to go horribly wrong. Think of it like Neville brewing a potion, but exponentially worse," Ron advised.

"Neville? Why are you picking on Neville?" Hermione asked.

Harry added, "Yeah, don't use Neville as an example of something bad happening."

"Look, it's not good magic," Ginny explained. "Casting with another person takes less energy, but if the two or more people are not compatible, it's a disaster. The more people involved, the higher the chance for an accident, and the more powerful the catastrophe."

"I'm interested in volunteering. It should be fun." The four of them looked at Luna as she announced this while passing through the middle of them.

"Mental. Absolutely mental," Ron commented. Fun working with Snape.

Hermione was contemplating how a loose gurdyroot would react falling into any mixture. Catastrophe may not be a big enough word to describe the devastation.

Although Harry was not contemplating how expert he was at Potions, he was interested in learning more about this group magic thing. Was it really so bad? If they never used it against Voldemort, maybe. However, why would Snape be using it with some woman of 'dubious repute' if it was so dangerous? Was it going to help him out with this curse thing? Harry should help if it was to take care of Snape's curse. He did drink the professor's potion so he was too lucky to get hit with anything.

Speeding up, Hermione attacked the stairs, "Hurry, I want to get to the library after dinner."

"For Merlin's sake," complained Ron. "Why is it every first day back, you're racing to the library? We were in the same classes with you all day, and the only class we have again before the weekend is Herbology."

"I want to look up that magic Prof. Slughorn mentioned."

"Hermione," Ginny called, "it's undoubtedly in the Restricted Section since they won't want students attempting it."

"There has to be some mention of it," was the reply as Hermione kept going, outdistancing Ron and Ginny with her aggressive pace.

Harry tried to keep up with her and mentioned, "I'd be interested in knowing what you find out."

"It might be restricted, but I also want to look up that name Prof. Slughorn mentioned. It sounded familiar."

"Isn't that a word that means like a dark liquid?"

"Well yes, but besides the vocabulary lesson, Harry. I knew I've seen or heard that name before."

Harry remembered Nicholas Flamel and Hermione's 'light reading'. That name could be anywhere, not limited to a potions book or periodical.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Most Loyal  Chapter 13

Hermione was seated, served herself dinner, and was almost done by the time the others caught up to her. Ron and Ginny were not especially interested in her current project. Harry had stopped to read the brief notice on the bulletin board -

_NEWT level Potions students interested in working with a visiting Potions Mistress over this upcoming weekend are to meet in Dungeon Classroom Six on Thursday evening at Eight P.M. The Potions Mistress's decision will be final as to what students she will accept. ~ Prof. S. Snape._

There had been no mention of the danger that Prof. Slughorn had warned them about. Harry still suspected it was something to cure the curse Snape was under. Why else would an Potions Mistress from outside be needed when they had both Snape and Slughorn here at Hogwarts?

Even if Harry was not particularly interested in Potions, he might go down there to find out what was going on. With Snape around, he doubted he'd be accepted as any kind of help, other than cauldron scrubber, but if the woman was making the decision, perhaps she'd ignore Snape's opinion. That could be kind of funny.

Ron stopped eating long enough to say, "So you doing Herbology too tonight, Hermione?"

"I don't know. I might just take out the books I need and do it later tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Um, good. Maybe you can help me with that."

"I can loan you the books when I'm done, Ron. Depends on how far I get. Will you meet me in the library after you're done?"

"Uh, yeah, I could, but Harry needs me-"

"What?" Harry interrupted. "I might go by the library and join Hermione."

"What about quidditch?"

"Demelza didn't say anything about it."

"She's not going to stay captain, Harry, now that you're back."

"I'd rather hear that from her."

"Maybe I should be captain again," Ginny suggested.

Ron grimaced at his sister, saying, "Harry came first."

"I'm going," Hermione said in parting. She was not interested in listening to their merits as quidditch captains. That could take a long time.

"I'll be right behind you," Harry called out.

"Demelza!" Ron called down the table to get her attention.

"What?" she yelled back.

"Quidditch meeting tonight?"

"No, Weasley. I'm meeting with Prof. Snape."

Harry looked surprised. Why did she score a detention before him?

"Why?" Ginny asked in annoyance. Was Snape already messing with their quidditch team?

"Everyone that has Muggle Studies is meeting with him."

"What for?"

"I won't know that till I meet him, Weasley."

Harry noticed Snape was not even at the head table. Interesting. Was he canceling Muggle Studies? One of the Carrows was in charge of it last year, and it was a horrible and mandatory class.

Ginny and Ron discussed their lack of information, ruining Harry's solitary speculation. He doubted Snape was taking up where Carrow left off. Hermione probably had a better idea of what was going on, once he got a chance to tell her. Was this part of the changes Prof. McGonagall was talking about? He'd see Demelza later to find out what happened.

Unfortunately, Prof. McGonagall was not part of Harry's plan to escape the bickering siblings by going to the library.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Weasley, finish up and come up to the headmistress office."

"What for?" Ron asked.

"I'll discuss it with you there. Don't keep me waiting."

Harry asked, "Should I get Hermione? She already went to the library."

"No, Miss Granger is not required. This is just for the three of you."

Harry was slightly worried since Ron was talking utter nonsense while waving his spoon about. He doubted they were going to be given special projects of independent study. If anyone was a candidate for that, it was Hermione.

He didn't have to voice his opinion since Ginny shot down every idea Ron voiced.

Harry grabbed a third pudding out of Ron's hand, and put it back in the center of the table. He suggested, "Let's go and find out what she wants, rather than wasting our time here."

"All right. Ron did not need another anyway, or he'd be able to block all three hoops without moving."

"It's not my fault I have a high metabolism!"

Ginny replied, "High in sugar."

"Stop!" Harry snapped. They were trying to drive him mad. There was no other explanation for their behavior. Actually, maybe he was turning into a nutter, with contemplating rushing the library on his first night back at school.

They were not left waiting outside the headmaster's office since the griffon moved aside for them without trying to guess the password.

Harry was relieved that it was only Prof. McGonagall present, however he was immediately distracted by a heavenly smell that started him salivating, even though he had only finished a large dinner minutes ago. There was takeaway containers stacked on a table near the fireplace. Curry. Sweet, sweet, entirely muggle through and through, takeaway curry.

There was also a collection of beverage containers. Harry's mouth dropped open at the sight of Coca Cola's easily recognizable red and white label among them.

"Sit down. I have the homework assignments the three of you turned in today, and I am appalled."

Harry was distracted from the muggle oasis by what Prof. McGonagall was saying. He uttered, "Huh?"

"Your assignments, Mr. Potter, are identical to Mr. Weasley's, except for the name at the top of the parchment. Miss Weasley put a bit more effort into hers so it is not identical, but similar enough to arouse suspicion."

"Wait? You copied Harry's homework?" Ginny demanded of her brother. "You lazy-"

"I had suspected that," Prof. McGonagall said, "since Potter was initially returning to school alone. However, allowing the two of you to copy his work is ..."

"I didn't," Harry denied. "I was sitting with Ginny when she did her homework, but she did not copy mine. We talked about it so it's only natural that she'd say something similar in her paper."

"What about Mr. Weasley?"

Harry chose to allow Ron to explain what he did. He hoped Ron would be honest and not suggest that Harry insisted he copy his homework.

"Why do you have our homework?" Ron demanded, rather than answering the question put to him.

"Prof. Snape noted the irregularity when he was reviewing them and submitted your parchments to me. I obtained your work from Prof. Sprout and Prof. Slughorn to look them over myself."

Harry thought that sounded odd. Why didn't Snape accuse him of cheating, rather than going to Prof. McGonagall?

"Snape framed us," Ron declared.

Even Ginny, who hated Snape, didn't believe her brother. Ron copied Harry's work and was going to drag Harry down with him. Harry was too honorable to come out and squeal on his best friend.

"Professor or Headmaster Snape has better things to do with his time than substitute your homework assignments with copies of Potter's."

"No, he doesn't."

Even Harry was not that paranoid about Snape. He'd mess up on his own, without Snape planting false evidence of cheating on homework.

"Fortunately, I have already decided upon a solution, Mr. Weasley, rather than wasting my time listening to you babble nonsense. Since you were already on academic probation, you will now have different homework assignments than Potter, since you are being sent back to sixth year. Here is your new schedule. I also want your prefect badge."

"What?" Ron exclaimed, clenching his fists. Although he said it loudly, Ginny's cackle almost drowned him out.

Harry was concerned that Ron was going to do something rash, even though Prof. McGonagall was right about the crime. Ron had copied his homework. However, sending him back to sixth was too harsh. Given time, Harry was sure Prof. McGonagall would reconsider.

"I will give Miss Weasley the benefit of the doubt -"

The floo flared green, and a deep, male voice called, "Severus?"

Prof. McGonagall responded, "Not now, Kingsley. I'm using the office, and Severus is meeting with students shortly."

"Do you know when he'll be free to talk?"

Minerva's mouth twisted in a smirk. If it was up to Severus, the response would be 'never'. Kingsley was laying it on too thick with his attempt to court Severus. It was her fault, for letting it slip that their marriage was 'open' and hinting heavily that Severus was interested in putting his female bits to use. It was not the least bit true, but if Kingsley could show a bit of restraint, he'd agree to teach Defense for a few months before he found out that Severus was not about to be wooed.

"Perhaps next week."

"Next week?"

"Severus is tremendously busy."

"If it's that difficult to reach him by floo, Minerva, I might have to write a letter."

"Perhaps you should. Good night."

Resuming her train of thought with the students, Minerva announced, "I'm taking twenty points from Gryffindor for Mr. Weasley, and ten points for Mr. Potter."

"Do we even have thirty points yet?" Ginny asked.

"I suggest the three of you endeavor to garner points in class, besides the quidditch pitch. Do not count on my being magnanimous at year end to award Gryffindor the cup."

"What do you mean by that?" Ginny asked.

"That I am not Albus Dumbledore," Minerva replied with a jerk of a thumb over her shoulder at the supposedly sleeping portrait who now adopted a frown.

"Not going to help if Snape awards a lot of points to Slytherin," Ron muttered.

"That's Professor or Headmaster Snape," Minerva corrected loudly.

"Are you calling me?" asked a voice from above.

"No, Severus. I still have students in the office. You can come down though. It is your time."

"Are any of my students here yet?"

"No."

"I can wait."

"Don't bother. I'm getting rid of this lot."

Severus came out of his bedroom to look down at who was in the office. Oh, it was the cheating Gryffindors. Prof. McGonagall had been livid earlier at their audacity. She was a refreshing change after Albus Dumbledore, and it was about time the Gryffindors learned there was a thing called 'honor' that should apply to themselves, rather than anyone they cared to insult.

Ginny and Ron were not impressed with whatever Snape was dressed up to be, but Harry thought the short beard was a big improvement to Snape's looks. He still needed a haircut. More shocking was his clothing. His trousers were black, but he had on a moss green, long-sleeved dress shirt.

"Where you going?" blurted out of Ron.

"Me?" Severus inquired, knowing full well who Weasley meant. "I have Muggle Studies." He vaguely gestured towards the table of muggle food. The extra work did have a definite benefit with remarkably few students. In fact, there was only one Gryffindor taking the class, and it was not Granger.

"What do you know about muggles, except how to kill them?" Ginny spat.

"Five points from Gryffindor," emerged from Minerva's mouth first.

Harry was intrigued. Snape was going to do something with Muggle Studies? Normally, he would pity the students, but the lure of curry should make it more tolerable than barrels of flobberworms and crusty cauldrons ever was.

Noticing that Potter was eyeballing him with interest, rather than the disgust evident on the Weasleys' faces, Severus asked, "What, Potter?"

"Oh … uh, not to mean any disrespect, sir, but those are um … house slippers you've got on."

Severus agreed with a jerking nod, and muttered, "I'm aware of that, Potter. I'm currently under a curse cast by a troll twat that messed up my feet."

Harry was surprised by the phrase. Did Snape just call Voldemort a 'troll twat'?

"Is that belt on too tight, Severus?" Minerva interrupted, grabbing hold of the leather around Snape's waist and pulling it to make sure she could get a couple fingers under it. The man was too thin as it was.

"Get your hands off me, witch. I can dress myself," he spit in disgust as Prof. McGonagall jerked him around.

"I was simply checking."

"I am not a scruffy Gryffindor," Severus replied, giving Ron's untucked shirt tails, both front and back, an obvious look.

The door opened, and Luna Lovegood entered with a younger Ravenclaw, Nancy Carmichael.

"You have Muggle Studies also?" Luna asked with true interest.

"You're barking," was Ron's incredulous reply.

"Leave, Weasley," Minerva suggested.

"Gladly," Ginny answered.

Harry stood still a moment, then asked, "They're having curry?"

"Tonight, we are sampling curry," Snape agreed. "That's one of the most popular types of food among muggle Britons."

Harry nodded. Uncle Vernon did not like foreign food so curry was not on the menu at the Dursleys. Probably being deprived of it made him crave it more. Still, it was not something Harry could pick up in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley.

Guessing at Potter's look, Severus offered, "If you want some, Potter, stay a couple minutes till the rest arrive to eat. There's too much because the elf got some of everything on the menu." That was a bit of an exaggeration because Severus wanted extra so he could enjoy the leftovers for a couple days. He'd eat it purposely in front of Slytherin's portrait. He had told the founder how much he loved muggle food. Mmm mmm. With any hope, the parasite in him would turn muggle now that Severus was truly enjoying eating and craving every bit of food that was unwholesome with grease, spices and who knew what else muggles did to make it taste so good.

Besides, if he was generous enough to let Potter what he had in excess, the sneak thief would not be lurking about after hours. If he did, and was caught, Prof. McGonagall would not be the least bit forgiving. Not that getting expelled would hurt Potter in the least, but it would still be a victory over the arrogant rule-breaker.

"C'mon, Harry," Ginny urged from the door as Demelza came in with a couple Hufflepuffs.

Harry hesitated a moment before addressing Snape, "Thank you, sir, but Ron's upset so I should go with him."

Severus nodded. He had not truly wanted Potter to stay so it was fortuitous that Weasley was angry that he was caught cheating. Perhaps Severus could suggest Prof. McGonagall write his mother with their concerns about the boy. It was evident being Potter's sidekick and the Savior's constant life of privilege were rubbing off. Gryffindors were such greedy gits.

Harry left, but his patience and understanding didn't stay with him as Ginny and Ron bickered. Both made valid points, however, Harry was mostly in agreement with Ginny that Ron should not have blindly copied his homework, though Ginny did agree with Ron on Snape being a big-nosed, meddling lowlife. Harry thought the world would end if Snape chose to overlook such blatant cheating by Gryffindors.

He stuck it out to the portrait of the Fat Lady, then said he was joining Hermione in the library, as he originally planned. Both complained that they wanted Harry to spend time with them, rather than wasting his time in the library. One of them alone was fine. Ron was his best friend, and Ginny was his girlfriend, but together, they were a nightmare.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Most Loyal

Chapter 14

Still fuming over their immaturity, Harry plopped into the chair next to Hermione and her fortress of books on the table, asking, "Is there a way to check if someone did something to Ron and Ginny?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Haven't you noticed they've been acting like children?"

"All the Weasleys took Fred's death very hard, Harry. They were also cooped up at home for months so it'll take time for them to get away from each other. It's hard because they are both friends with us, and now Ginny's in all our classes too."

"Yeah, but … well, actually, Ron's been sent back to sixth year."

"What?" Hermione shrieked, before she remembered she was in the library and covered her mouth and looked about, fearing Madam Pince may have heard her.

"Cheating. Prof. McGonagall had put him on some sort of probation."

"Cheating? On what? We haven't even had a test yet."

"Ron copied all my homework. He didn't even bother mixing up the words."

"Why did you let him copy your homework, Harry?"

"Uh … well, I didn't exactly. He was in a panic yesterday before we left to catch the train since he had not started any of it yet."

"What did he do all weekend? I finished mine with plenty of time to spare, and Ginny did hers."

Harry shrugged. Not everyone did homework like Hermione.

"How was Ron caught?"

"Uh, Snape gave our Defense papers to Prof. McGonagall, and then she got a hold of our Herbology assignments, and Ron's Potions work. Ginny got called up too, but she believed me when I told her that I was sitting and talking with Ginny while she was doing her homework."

Hermione questioned, "How could Ron be so stupid?"

"Well, I don't think if he knew that Snape was teaching Defense that he would have done that."

"That's not the point. He shouldn't have cheated at all."

Harry responded, "Yeah," with a reluctant nod, then added, "Ron's pretty upset."

"It's his own fault," Hermione announced. "Oh, and before either of you repeat that … rumor about Prof. Snape, I think you better be set straight."

"Rumor?"

"Yes, that false rumor," Hermione stressed as she shifted a pile of pages to the left in a huge, heavy book to search for the page she marked towards the back.

"No, he's still cursed with something. I saw him, and he mentioned something wrong with his feet. Oh, and he's teaching Muggle Studies."

"Muggle Studies?" Hermione repeated in bewilderment, then clarified, "and I didn't mean his curse. See here. It's his listing in the Potioneer Compendium."

Harry looked at the page, and immediately noticed something.

"Hey, look here," he pointed. "Snape was apprenticed to Caliginous."

"I noticed that, Harry. Unfortunately, there are four potions mistresses that use that name. I hope it's not the one that specializes in poisons, or the other that's good with love potions."

"I doubt we have to worry about love potions," Harry snorted.

"I'm not sure. Look at some of the articles Prof. Snape has published. He's well-rounded, and potions that affect people's behavior are not foreign to him."

Harry's eyes were repelled by the long list of smaller print, and focused on the contact information. Severus Snape was not available for hire, and there was no waste of words in an attempt to be polite.

"What's this red mark next to his name?" The rest of the entry was in regular black print.

"I haven't been able to find a directory of some of the symbols used in this book. You missed what I wanted to show you. See here. It says Prof. Snape is married."

Harry's mouth dropped open as he read the word Hermione indicated.

"But … but … when?" Harry stuttered.

"I don't know, Harry. It lists the publication dates below, and that he was born in 1960, and that he was apprenticed from 1978 to 1980."

"Married to who?"

"Again, that's a mystery."

"No, he can't be," Harry denied.

"Why not?"

"He ..." Harry stopped. What was he supposed to say, that Snape loved his mum? That because of that, Snape could never get married because he loved a woman that died almost twenty years ago? Harry needed to know more. Besides who it was, he wanted to know when Snape got married. If it was a long time ago … well, maybe that was all right since his mum married his dad, but Harry was not going to let this rest.

"That means what Ron or Ginny brought up at dinner last night is not true."

"What … oh!"

"'Oh' is right. That's so adolescent anyway, if Prof. Snape wasn't married. Some people wait till they find someone special. It shows a degree of commitment, don't you think?"

"Huh?"

"You know the phrase … saving oneself for marriage?"

"Oh … uh … right. I haven't … and uh … you know I think Ginny is the one, but we maybe snog, but uh …"

"You don't have to go into details, Harry. I'm just saying that it's all right for someone not to shag whenever there's an opportunity. You were able to restrain yourself with a summer of all sorts of girls screaming your name and throwing themselves on you."

"Uh … yeah," Harry agreed. He knew what Hermione was saying, but Snape was old. Almost forty. If he was not married, then Harry would think there was something wrong with him. Other than being in complete agreement with Ginny that Snape was not physically attractive.

"Good for you, Harry."

Harry nodded, though he was not in agreement that remaining a virgin till he was however old was something he'd want to do. For now, he was seriously dating Ginny. They were both in their last year of school, so perhaps they'd get married after graduation, and if the opportunity came up, and things felt right, perhaps they would … before that. Unlike Hermione, Harry did not outline his life like a study planner and have a date picked out for that special occasion like an upcoming exam.

"You know what I think?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"I think it's because Prof. Snape was apprenticed to this woman that Prof. Slughorn does not like her."

Happy to get back to the subject of anything but Snape's love life, Harry asked, "Why's that?"

"It's only a hunch."

"A hunch?"

"Well, think about Prof. Slughorn. He's good at picking out talented students. Prof. Snape is not, as he puts it, 'on the shelf'."

Harry sighed. He was front and center on Slughorn's shelves of photographs.

"Well, don't you think Prof. Snape is talented?" Hermione asked.

"Uh yeah, but … that's for something that might not have been evident when he was younger."

"Well, just look at his potions accomplishments. From what I've learned, not every brewer can make Wolfsbane. He was only apprenticed two or three years, when some of the people in here may have taken a dozen years of apprenticeship, even Prof. Slughorn was apprenticed for six years, and not for a few years till after he graduated from Hogwarts, if they graduated at eighteen, like we do now. So I think Prof. Snape is pretty good at Potions, compared to others in his field. Then there's the unexplained circumstances during the Battle that we think Prof. Snape did. He's a powerful wizard, Harry, if he's the one that caused the lightning that targeted all those Death Eaters, besides turning You Know … Voldemort into salt. Besides, only strong wizards are rumored to be able to have a familiar like a phoenix."

"Wait … I haven't seen Fawkes in the office. Have you?"

"I've only been there once since the Battle, Harry."

"I didn't see him tonight, but Snape was trying to look sort of muggle, so something like Fawkes would stand out."

"Look muggle?"

"Yeah, he was wearing different clothes, a beard, and there was a ton of curry on the table up there for the students."

"Curry? Why would they be having curry?"

"Snape said it was a very popular muggle food."

"I know that, but they don't get tested on what curry tastes like."

Harry momentarily frowned in thought. He didn't think that Snape was trying to make class fun, so it had to be something else. Inspired, he speculated, "Maybe it's like the way Umbridge taught Defense, and how others did. Yeah, you could memorize a list of foods and their ingredients from a book, and that would be sufficient to pass a test, but would you really know it?"

"I suppose he could have asked the elves to make some curry."

"No, it was in takeaway containers, Hermione."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and there was Coke and other muggle drinks."

"Maybe a bit of a party to kick off class?" Hermione suggested. "What does Prof. Snape really know about muggles?"

Harry shrugged, "I think he might know more than he's let on. Just 'cause he doesn't normally do muggle stuff doesn't make him ignorant."

"Perhaps Prof. McGonagall will let me take Muggle Studies."

"Why? You know what curry tastes like."

"Well, if Prof. Snape doesn't know anything, I could help the others out so they can pass their OWL and NEWT."

Harry laughed, "Is that what you're going to tell McGonagall and Snape?"

"Of course not."

Distracted by the mysterious red symbol, Harry asked, "Are there more people with this mark?"

"Yes, I found two others, but I don't know what it means. Or some of the other symbols that are near other people's names. The only thing I could confirm of Prof. Slughorn's was that none of the ladies named Caliginous are members of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Prof. Snape is though. There's no explanation of how to use the book in the front, and the index and appendix are useless."

"Maybe Madam Pince knows, or we could ask Prof. Slughorn?"

"I suppose. I can't take this book out of the library since it's from the Reference section, but I can copy the symbol, if Madam Pince won't tell us what it is. It looks like the rune Pertho."

"What's Pertho?"

"A letter, like 'P', unless you want to talk Divination with throwing those worthless stones."

Harry wracked his brain for what he learned in Divination regarding runestones, but drew a blank except for the fact that Ron was fond of the planet Uranus, and the Grim lived in his teacup.

"What's it mean in Divination?"

Hermione frowned at Harry. She had done extra reading on the subject to confirm how barmy it was, but Harry took it for three years.

"Well, if you look at it symbolically, it represents an open womb."

"Huh?"

"Not necessarily sex, but the mystery of life or even past lives or sometimes fate. If it is reversed, then it means death."

"Is it facing the good way?"

"Yes, but I don't think that's what it means in a potions book."

Harry had a very brief thought that the book was indicating when someone was having sex, but then considered that he knew Snape was with Muggle Studies students right now, rather than his mysterious wife. Wait, could Snape have children too? Harry's head hurt.

"Can we check the old newspapers to find out who Snape is married to?"

"We might not have to. When I was here on Friday, Neville mentioned something about Prof. Sprout and her family, and when I asked him, he said he knew who on the staff was married."

"He did? Do you think he'd tell us?"

"I don't know. Neville is taking his position seriously. Maybe we can get Hagrid to tell us."

Harry laughed in agreement.

"Neville might have also said that because he had been to a recent wedding. You know, with Snape no longer being a spy and now a war hero, it might have been easy for him to meet someone."

Harry asked, "But what about this curse?"

"Maybe it changed his outlook regarding things."

"Or it could have made someone feel sorry for him," Harry speculated. "I think we have a lot of maybe's, Hermione. It might be simpler for me to write a letter to Mrs. Snape."

"Write a letter? I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Well, being Harry Potter has to be good for something."

"But if she's married to the professor, I doubt she can be your biggest fan, Harry."

Harry chuckled and threw his hand over his eyes, proclaiming, "Oh no, you've ruined it. I'm thinking of Snape dressed like that boggart of Neville's. What a couple that would be."

Even though Hermione was smiling, she retorted, "That's not funny. She could be a very lovely person."

"Yeah, before she got married to the git."

Harry and Hermione were disappointed by Madam Pince giving them a look of disgust when they presented her with the symbol and snatched the book away.

Prof. Slughorn alluded to some secret code of potions brewers, which was his way of saying he would not tell them.

On the other hand, Demelza was more than glad to tell them about what went on for Muggle Studies. She even had a copy of the ungraded evaluation they took for Hermione to look over.

Harry only saw the first two questions before Hermione got secretive with it.

1. Who are Matthew, Mark, Luke and John?

2. Who are John, Paul, George and Ringo?

Demelza said, "Prof. Snape also had photos of people, places and things that he showed us, asking if we knew what they were."

"Did you like curry?" Harry asked, while Hermione muttered to herself about Parliament.

"It's spicy! Why do muggles like it? I guess I could get used to it, but not all the time."

"Muggles don't eat it all the time," Hermione corrected, still frowning at the paper full of questions about what she considered useless muggle trivia. The study of muggles should be to help wizards understand how much muggles have accomplished without magic. And by that, Hermione did not mean to include the Spice Girls.

"I didn't say they did, but then the crisps were salty. It seems that between all those strong tastes that muggles would have some sort of imbalance and not appreciate the taste of good food."

"Why'd he give you this test?" Harry asked.

"Prof. Snape was not sure what we already knew. From that, I guess nothing. I don't think others knew much more than me."

"This is hardly a gauge of what you should be learning," Hermione announced.

Demelza suggested, "Or he may have given it so we'd be quiet while he ate."

"What did he eat?" Harry asked.

"The curry. I don't recall seeing him in the Great Hall for dinner so I guess from all he ate, it was his dinner. Perhaps it's his weakness."

"Huh?"

"You know, Harry, like when we want to get him in a good mood."

Harry did not believe that. Snape in a good mood. Perhaps Harry slaving away in a detention, while Snape ate curry was more like it.

"He can't eat curry," Hermione huffed. If Prof. Snape had some digestive condition, curry was not going to help it.

"Why not? Because he's a wizard?"

"Never mind," Hermione responded, looking back at the parchment.

"Did Snape say what you'd be eating next?" Harry queried.

"Well, he did mention that when we do our field work that he was going to take us to a muggle food store. Prof. Snape said it was hard to put it into words except it was big and a monument to gluttony. We could purchase food or other things there to take back to the house to sample."

"What house?" Hermione demanded.

"Oh, there's a muggle house for us to use so we can see how the machines work. Prof. Snape called the machines something else, and said that even though we needed to know how they basically worked, like how they were powered and what they did, that muggles did not care how they were put together as long as they did a proper job, such as keeping food from spoiling and getting clothes clean."

"So what are you going to learn?" Harry asked. "Did he go over that?"

"He did. Sort of. Prof. Snape said that the way the course was taught in the past was sort of an outside view of how muggles lived. Therefore, even if we scored an Outstanding on our NEWT, we would not understand muggle things, even if we could take apart an automobile and reassemble it, since most muggles don't do that. If we met a muggle, they would think we were strange which would not necessarily mean breaking the Secrecy act but would make it difficult for us to interact, since we have nothing in common. Oh, we also listened to some music tonight."

"How could you?" Hermione huffed. "Muggle devices don't work at Hogwarts."

"Prof. Snape played a Beatles record on a phonograph. He's trying to do something with some other devices to run off power sources from our wireless radios so we can watch a movie here, rather than having to go to the muggle house or a cinema."

"The Beatles? They're old."

"Prof. Snape did say that, Granger, but he also said any person that grew up, even now, should be aware of who they are because they are still played on the radio."

"What did he mean by that?"

Harry butted in, "He means that if I claim to have never heard of the Beatles, I could be mistaken for a space alien."

"How could someone have never heard of the Beatles?" Hermione snapped.

Demelza commented, "I've never heard of them before tonight."

"I think Prof. Snape is dumbing down the course," Hermione complained.

"Perhaps, but he did say he would teach us what we need for our tests, but also asked us why we were taking it. We're all there to experience muggle things, even if we never go into muggle London or to their shops."

Harry tried to imagine some of the wizards he knew going into a muggle shop. He suspected Dumbledore had gone to candy shops, but maybe he acquired his stash however Snape got the curry. Snape mentioned an elf got it.

"Anyone can go to a muggle shop. All you need is muggle money, and Gringott's exchanges galleons for muggle money."

Harry looked doubtful. He remembered Mr. Weasley being challenged in the Underground, besides him having a shed full of batteries and parts. If that was the old Muggle Studies, perhaps Snape's version of Muggle Studies would be more useful to someone who wanted to pick up a muggleborn student from their home, without blasting through a lounge wall.

"Hermione," whinged Ron as he joined them.

"What?"

"What! Didn't Harry tell you?"

"Yes, I heard. Prof. Snape is teaching Muggle Studies."

"Who cares about that? What about Snape getting me sent back to sixth year classes?"

Demelza chuckled, "You're in class with me, Weasley?"

"No, I'm not. There's got to be some sort of school rule to keep me where I belong."

"Ron, I heard," Hermione clarified. "But I also heard it was because you were on probation, and you cheated."

"Cheated? All I did was copy a couple stupid homework assignments."

"Yes, that's cheating."

Harry interrupted, "It was actually Prof. McGonagall that put you back in sixth year."

"Only because Snape made her."

"Ron, I think you need to think up some way to show how sorry you are, apologize, and work hard to show that you won't do it again," Hermione suggested.

"Did she ban you from quiddtich, Weasley?" Demelza asked.

"No."

Hermione interjected, "Actually, there's a precedent -"

"No way," Ron interrupted.

"Ron, you didn't let me finish. As I was saying, there's a precendent. Marcus Flint repeated a year and was still allowed to play for the Slytherin team."

"Flint repeated a year?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he did poorly on his OWLs, and Prof. Snape gave him a choice of repeating fifth year or leaving Hogwarts. He also took away his captaincy of the team."

"He should have kept the troll from playing," Ron snarled.

"Ron, weren't you listening? If he did, then it wouldn't help you, would it? You are also repeating a year -"

"I am not. I'm not doing sixth year again."

Harry calmly repeated Hermione's advice, "Well, you got to show them that it was a mistake and you're going to work hard. Prof. McGonagall is not entirely unreasonable."

The words were out of his mouth before Harry recalled how his Firebolt was confiscated when he first received it anonymously.

"It's not her I'm worried about. It's that prat, Snape. He'll give me detention next."

"What did you do to earn detention?" Hermione asked.

"Whatever he dreams up," Ron answered in an exasperated tone.

"You did copy my homework," Harry said. " Maybe you're the prat."

"Oi!"

"Why did you copy Harry's homework in the first place?" Hermione demanded. "You had days to work on it."

"I was busy."

*** No rubber duckies allowed *** No rubber duckies allowed *** No rubber duckies allowed *** No rubber duckies allowed *** No rubber duckies allowed ***

So what if Prof. McGonagall teased him about offering Potter some curry? Without Albus Dumbledore around, other than his nattering portrait that knew nothing about childbirth and infants and that had found knitting implements somewhere within another portrait to pretend he was suffering too, Harry Potter had no allies with power left in the castle. Severus could give the arrogant hothead all the rope he needed to hang himself, while he pretended to be a compassionate educator with a terrible curse.

Severus did not send Potter's best friend back to sixth year. He did not even deduct points for cheating, and allowed Prof. McGonagall to suggest that Potter receive a zero for the assignment he turned in. If she wanted to handle the Chosen One, he would let her argue with a painting about poor misunderstood Potter. He's the one that chose to return to Hogwarts and conspire with his fans to put on The Hogwarts Christmas Spectacular starring Harry Potter.

Besides, Potter turned down the invitation. It cost Severus nothing to pretend. Potter's behavior was certainly more predictable than what was happening to his body. The problem with his feet could be related to the curse or the pregnancy itself. Severus leaned towards it being caused by magic since it was resisting permanent treatment, with the painful blisters, peeling skin revealing tender pink underneath, and now some bloody hot red, itchy spots of rash that was creeping up to his ankles in patches. Enclosed shoes made it reoccur, with each occurrence worse than the previous. The last time Severus wore normal boots was the Order of Merlin award ceremony, with his unseen feet wrapped in potion-saturated cloth. Of course, pain potions of sufficient strength were not allowed, and the healer was most unhelpful with suggesting Severus could try to ask his mother for the details of her pregnancy with him. Combined with her constant suggestions about all the 'fun' he could have with his anatomy, Severus wished upon her that her crotch be infested with the vermin from a thousand Knockturn Alley whores and her arms too short to scratch.

Sitting in the bath, holding each foot up for a good study was awkward. They were painful, but hardly _cruciatus_ type pain. They might give out before the muscles in his abdomen refused to endure the weight of the parasite within him. Confinement to bed was inevitable. Hopefully, he'd figure out how to power that disc machine and television so he could watch some movie discs, rather than weeks, perhaps months, of reading. There was always the threat of visitors and conversation, but Severus wanted to avoid that unpleasantness. Even old McGonagall treating him with such uncharacteristic concern had reached its limit. Actually, he'd prefer to avoid everything about this disaster, however Severus's fate, determined right from birth was a life of suffering with a good dose of humiliation. Pregnant wizards and individuals with dual sexes might sound quite exciting on paper, but when it involved someone as ugly as him, one's mind could not help but think of it as a joke.

This was not the result of a bad decision on his part. If it was up to Severus, he would have chosen to die than to continue like this. Now, yet another life depended on him, and there was also whoever this curse would target next, if Severus failed. He should not care. Caring was a hindrance. Always had been. Why did he care about his mother? Why did he care about Lily? Why did he care about pompous Potter, simply because he was supposed to be the last thing left of Lily? The green of his eyes didn't make Potter into something he was not.

Perhaps the dark spawn within him would have red eyes. That ought to make keeping it alive as simple as keeping Potter safe from his own stupidity.

Severus heard Fawkes break into song in the bedroom. Damned thing always butting in where it wasn't wanted. Would its song changed if Severus plucked it bald and extracted tears from it? There would be a way to make money without having to put up with the nonsense at Hogwarts.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 15**

With everything Harry needed to do, it was a wonder he penned a short, nice letter introducing himself and got up in time to visit the Owlery before breakfast. Seeing all the owls saddened him. He missed Hedwig.

Not sure how far away the Snapes lived, Harry chose a bigger owl. He shied away from the light colored owls, and chose a dark grey fellow.

He politely asked, "Could you please take this letter to Mrs. Snape?"

The owl stuck out its leg in acceptance, and Harry attached his folded parchment. He then realized he was standing still, watching the owl fly off into the distance unnecessarily.

Harry arrived down in the Great Hall with plenty of time to have a good breakfast, then perhaps go to the library for a bit during his free period before Charms, if Ginny did not have any better ideas.

It was hard to start a conversation since Ron continued complaining about being sent down to sixth year, the inconvenient schedule with a class first period today and tomorrow, besides on Monday too. Ginny replied snottily, and Hermione told them all to be quiet or she'd move. She had Runes and needed to prepare.

Then the mail owls came in, Harry thought he saw a familiar looking owl land in front of Prof. Snape. His fear was confirmed as the professor took the note, frowned, opened it, then glaringly scowled directly at Harry before passing it to Prof. McGonagall, who then gave her own disapproving look at the Gryffindor table. What had he done wrong? It was not a nasty letter. Besides, why was Snape's wife's mail going to him instead of whoever she was? Did he have her chained up in a dungeon? Oooh, maybe she was in Azkaban.

Harry was so distracted by his thoughts about the increasingly unfortunate Mrs. Snape that he failed to neglect a last elderly owl wobble towards the Gryffindor table and crash into a box of Cheeri-Owls in front of Ron. Errol had a distinctive red missive.

If anyone in the entire castle had missed Ron's outrage during the past twelve hours over his punishment, including Hagrid in his hut, they were now made aware of the new sixth year by Mrs. Weasley's threats to bring her youngest son home for lessons.

Ginny's face was redder than Ron's. Why did her brother have to be such an arrogant, no-good, lazy sod?

Hermione thought Mrs. Weasley was a bit harsh as she listed her plans for Ron, but it may be what Ron needed. She agreed he could not live on an Order of Merlin, first class, medal for the rest of his life, especially when he was so young and could accomplish so much more. She was sure that all Ron needed was the right motivation. She knew he could work hard at more than quidditch.

At the head table, Minerva could not believe Severus was really eating warmed up leftover curry for breakfast. His exhibit of eating it with enthusiastic relish was undoubtedly to tease her, and he'd be paying for it soon enough while leaning over a toilet.

When Severus received a piece of correspondence, she did not initially pry, even though he looked displeased, then asked, "What did you do to Potter, headmistress?"

"When?"

"I suppose since last night. He's writing _my _mother."

"_What?_" she snapped, holding out her hand.

"It could be some prank. There's nothing inflammatory in the note."

Minerva's eyes skimmed over the harmless looking letter, then flipped it over to see it addressed to confirm it matched the salutation to Mrs. Snape.

"May I handle this, Severus?"

"Kindly do, headmistress. That was a condition of whatever you promised, that you'd _handle_ idiotic, hot-headed, imagining they are not treated with the proper respect, Gryffindors." He then added, as he caught an earful of Mrs. Weasley's rant, "Perhaps they thought my mummy would send a howler."

"Didn't she?" Minerva quipped, recalling Severus as a student.

"Don't be ridiculous. Those were from Black."

"They were?"

"Yes, why else would she focus on my looks, rather than on what I did? They were the same writing and voice as the ones Regulus received about putting ointment on his delicate bottom after taking a long soapy shower with the rest of the quidditch team."

Although Severus dismissed the subject to put another helping of curry on his plate, Minerva spent some time looking at the Gryffindor table. What was wrong with all of them?

Seeing the determined look in Prof. McGonagall's eyes as she headed in their direction, Harry considered running off. He had Transfiguration after lunch though, so there was only so much avoiding he could do. Besides, he might get some information, or … land in the infirmary and perhaps Neville would feel sorry for him, and tell him something.

What he feared was coming true, as she announced his name, "Harry Potter."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"What sort of nonsense are you up to writing the headmaster's mother?" she demanded, flapping the folded square of parchment accusingly at him.

"His mother? Uh … no, I uh, know Snape's mother in St. Mungo's. I was writing to his wife."

"Potter, are you daft?"

"What? No … I mean it was in a book."

"It was, Professor," Hermione agreed. "I was looking up potion makers in their compendium ..."

Prof. McGonagall held up her hand to interrupt, "Neither of you know what you're talking about."

"It said Prof. Snape was married," Hermione continued.

"Miss Granger, you are too reliant on books."

Ron asked, "How can he be married? Ugh."

"Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley. Come with me, Potter."

"But ..."

"Now."

"Is she in Azkaban?" Harry asked as he stood.

In frustration, Minerva flicked her middle finger into Potter's forehead. If she did not know better, she'd think that Severus put these idiots up to this. They could not be this moronic.

The two of them ended up in Prof. McGonagall's regular office near the transfiguration classroom.

"Potter, are you going to persist in bothering the headmaster?"

"What? I mean … no, I didn't know the letter would go to him."

"Oh, so you are somehow plotting against him?"

"No. Just curious."

"How far is this curiosity going to take you? Azkaban, as you suggested?"

"She is in Azkaban?"

"Hardly, Potter. Though you keep annoying me like this, and either I'll be there or you'll be expelled."

"What?"

"Potter, while you are a student, the staff's private lives are exactly that. Private."

"It's not that. He knows so much and it's kept hidden, and things would be a lot easier if I knew what was going on."

"Why do you need to know what is going on with the headmaster, Potter?"

In frustration, Harry growled out, "Ooooh. Why does everyone treat me like a child? If I had known even a bit of anything before, then ..."

"I think that is more of Prof. Dumbledore's doing than Prof. Snape's."

"I know, but Snape ..."

"_Professor _Snape."

"Prof. Snape could have given me some clue instead of acting the way he did."

"A clue? What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

"Why he was on our side. Why he killed Dumbledore."

"Potter, although a lot hinged on you, I believe I overheard you were terrible at occlumency. Additionally, as soon as you think you find out something, you go off half-cocked."

"What? When?"

Prof. McGonagall waved the letter to Mrs. Snape and said, "Right here, Potter. You claim you had no idea to whom you were writing."

"I do too, just that I forgot that his mum would be Mrs. Snape too. I know that his mother's a secret."

"That you revealed to anyone listening in the Great Hall this morning. If you had the slightest inkling of anything, Potter, we would not be having this conversation."

"Can't you tell me anything?"

"About what?"

"His wife."

"Potter, why do you persist in being a complete idiot?"

"I'm curious. I never thought he'd be one to get married."

"Why's that? People get married all the time, Potter, and their reasons don't have to be what you think. Prof. Snape has enemies. They know he was inflicted with something during the Battle of Hogwarts. Marriage offers him some protection from their schemes. It was not his idea, but a number of people volunteered to become his spouse."

Harry could see people offering to help Prof. Snape considering the bunch of lowlifes still around. If he was not in love with Ginny, and someone was bothering some girl he knew … like Luna, since Ron would marry Hermione in a heartbeat … he'd probably queue up to help her.

"But why? I mean, why would he agree?"

"He was not in agreement, Potter. It was more of an ambush. Legally, he can still refute it."

"Oh … Oh! Now I get it. That's why he's still a virgin."

"Potter!"

"What? I, well not me, I mean, that's uh … it was Ron. That spell he cast was really meant to get Hermione from behind, but I heard that it got Sn … Prof. Snape in the back, and George covered for him."

"It is certainly no one's business if Miss Granger or Prof. Snape is or isn't," Minerva chided. "They are both adults."

She had not expected Severus to make any advances to her, and Minerva certainly did not get any signals from Severus that he would welcome any from her, but to find out that he had never … and now he was … criminal was the word that came to mind, but it already was without this addition. However, she should verify Severus' condition, rather than taking the word of Potter or Weasley. Her idea with Shacklebolt bordered on disastrous now. She'd have to tell Severus … somehow.

"Is she nice, at least?"

"Who?"

"His wife. I guess she'd have to be somewhat decent to marry him."

"Somewhat decent?" Prof. McGonagall repeated. "High praise indeed, Potter."

"Huh?"

"Keep your mind on school, Potter. Not on things that don't concern ya. And don't go spreading rumors to entertain the sorry lot of ya either," she warned, her Scottish brogue thickening.

"What?"

"What Prof. Snape does in private is no concern of yours, Potter. And Potter, that'll be ten points from Gryffindor."

"Ten?"

"'Cause I don't want to hear anything further, Potter."

Harry grumbled to himself on the way to Gryffindor tower. Why was everything such a bloody secret? Harry was eighteen, mature, could be off living on his own, and wanted to be treated like an adult. What was the big deal over keeping him the dark about who Snape was married to? If he wasn't married on more than paper, was it some kind of embarrassment to her? That was probably it. Harry couldn't imagine it was Snape's idea to hide it. It would actually make him look human.

Minerva taught class while contemplating confessing her duplicity to lure Kingsley Shacklebolt to fill the Defense against the Dark Arts position and wondering why Harry Potter was prying specifically into Severus' private life. Minerva had seen his memories in the pensieve. Did Potter think that Severus loved his mother less? Why would that matter? Lily Evans Potter was dead and while alive, she had no romantic involvement with Severus, as far as Minerva knew. Was Potter looking for some false motives from Severus? Was Severus expected to erect a shrine in Evans' honor and spend the rest of his life tending to it? Perhaps Severus could have, in absolute privacy, if he was not cursed.

Joining the headmaster for lunch readjusted Minerva's attitude. Severus was eating warmed up curry. Again, while showing great enjoyment. Minerva attributed his lack of dietary sense to a fey mood, rather than an overwhelming craving with which the pregnant were stricken.

"Potter did not mean to write your mother, Severus. The Mrs. Snape he was looking for is your wife."

"Did he find her?"

"No."

With a glance at the youngest staff member, Severus merely queried, "Longbottom?"

"That potioneer compendium says you're married. Miss Granger found it."

"Huh. Did Potter think that my wife put a potion in my cauldron? That situation is also listed. Why else would Caliginous contact me?"

"It is?"

"Yes … I don't understand why a wife would matter to him."

"Potter's got some strange ideas. The only one I dismissed was your wife is not in Azkaban."

Severus muttered, "Oh," in response. He had not expected much, being well aware of people's low opinion of him. A woman that would marry him would also be serving a sentence in Azkaban to keep away from him? That did sound plausible. His real wife called him 'coward', marrying him to shield him from others. If enough of this potion could be brewed properly, Severus might get a large enough share of the galleons to not have to worry about people again. Have the thing inside of him be born, dissolve his sham of a marriage since it would never be consummated, personally hire Winky, and leave. All he wanted was to be left alone.

His life was a farce till he could tell them all to go to hell.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Most Loyal**

**Chapter 16**

Harry survived Transfiguration class with Hermione and Ginny. Hermione hissed at him that he'd been reckless with the letter, and bemoaned the loss of more points from Gryffindor. It's not like they had a chance at the House Cup with Snape as headmaster.

Other than that, Hermione was back to hissing hints at him for getting today's transfiguration, actually it was conjuration out of thin air, under his belt. It wasn't easy to learn.

After class, Hermione approached Prof. McGonagall asking, "Professor, I was thinking of asking if I could add Muggle Studies, since it's being taught evenings now. I could really use another NEWT level class."

"Really?" Prof. McGonagall replied, looking skeptical.

"Yes, professor."

"I'm not inclined to approve you adding that class for seventh year, Miss Granger. At the moment, the class size allows students from all years to meet at once. As you probably know, there is not an instructor dedicated to that subject yet."

"I could help out, Professor, rather than add to Prof. Snape's workload."

"I'll mention it to Prof. Snape, but I doubt he'll agree, Miss Granger."

"But Professor, ..."

"No buts, Miss Granger. You dropped this subject so your readmission is not guaranteed."

Hermione had her answer at dinner, in a note from Prof. McGonagall. She was not readmitted to Muggle Studies, but could do independent study based on the course curriculum from the Ministry, and take the NEWT in June with the others.

Harry asked, "You going down to the dungeon later?"

"Of course. I haven't found out anything about the group brewing or casting, but maybe this Potions Mistress will say something so I'll know where to do the research. Even if Prof. Slughorn said she's kind of shady, I bet she knows and can teach lots, if Prof. Snape's apprenticeship was so short, compared to others."

"Maybe she just wanted to teach him fast to get rid of him."

Hermione gave Harry a look, and he responded, "What? Don't apprentices have to like live with them or something?"

"I think there is some sort of testing involved."

"You said this potions mistress didn't belong to the potion society thing."

"That's right, but if she has a reputation to uphold, she can't let Prof. Snape be considered an equal, unless he knows what he needs to."

"Do you think she's already here? Snape's not at the head table."

"We could check the map."

When they went back to Gryffindor tower, Harry found Snape and Sally Caliginous down in the dungeon already.

"That's good," Hermione said. "Frances Caliginous is the one that specialized in poisons."

"This is the love potions one?"

"No, that was um … Bridget," Hermione said, referring to her notes.

Demelza went by and said, "Potter, we got the pitch Saturday at ten."

"Thanks."

Hermione got up after Demelza went upstairs to check what she posted on the bulletin board, then sat back down.

"Ten, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I wanted to be sure there was nothing offensive on the note."

"You don't have to be super prefect, Percy."

"That's not funny, Harry. Have you seen Ron tonight? It's not like him to miss dinner."

Harry looked at the map and said, "No, but he knows how to get into the kitchens so I wouldn't be too worried."

"I didn't see him on that."

"There's collections of dots that he could be stacked in."

"What about Ginny?"

"When I told her I was going down to the dungeons tonight, she wasn't happy."

"I don't think Prof. Snape's going to let you help, Harry."

"Maybe. Maybe not. He did offer me some curry last night. I know he's not going to change overnight, but he didn't have to do that."

"You had curry last night?"

"No, it was after Ron was getting sent down to sixth, so I had to follow him and listen to him rant."

"I can't believe he was so stupid."

"I think it was more lazy."

"Either way, it's not good, Harry. He's received an Order of Merlin, your best friend, and now, he's also a cheat."

"Hey, he's not like a Slytherin cheater."

"They wouldn't be so easy to catch," Hermione replied, folding her arms over her chest. She was really disappointed in Ron.

*** Hoggy, Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy, Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy, Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy, Hoggy Hogwarts *** Hoggy, Hoggy Hogwarts ***

Harry and Hermione were on their way down the dungeon corridor to classroom six, when Prof. Slughorn came out of a darkened niche, calling, "Harry, why don't you and Miss Granger join me upstairs? I received a couple presents, and it's simply too much for one fellow … "

"Uh, sorry, Professor. I was heading to classroom six for that meeting at eight."

"Neither of you need to bother with that nonsense."

Hermione said, "It sounded interesting, even if we don't get picked. I'd like to hear more about it."

"It's rubbish," the professor insisted.

Harry grinned, "I might like to see rubbish, and laugh about it, if Prof. Snape's involved."

Prof. Slughorn waved a finger, "Don't go playing with fire, my boy. Snape's temper is in short supply these days. He turns nastier than a dragon with its tail caught."

"Then we should try not to be late, Professor," Hermione answered, urging Harry to move on by grabbing his elbow.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. He was intrigued why Prof. Slughorn was against Prof. Snape and this potions mistress, but wouldn't come out and say why. Calling it rubbish and nonsense wasn't saying it was dangerous.

Hermione huffed to herself at the sight of Luna's hair in the dark corridor, outside the closed door. She was looking at some paperwork, and did not greet them till Harry was almost on top of her.

"Harry, how nice to see you here."

"Yeah, Luna. What's happening?"

"Door's closed."

"Uh huh," Harry agreed. He could see that for himself.

Chambers took out his pocket watch and looked. "Two more minutes till eight," he said before snapping it closed.

Hermione recognized other Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs from their NEWT class, besides a couple sixth years. Was Prof. Slughorn waylaying everyone that came down the hall, or was Prof. Snape's reputation keeping people away? Harry and her were the only two Gryffindors, and there were no Slytherins.

Prof. Snape opened the door from inside before two minutes passed. He was not dressed in his normal clothes. There were dark, still-wet stains on his shirt and the thighs of his trousers. He was not wearing black.

Harry wasn't sure what to think over the professor's attire. It was light grey corduroys and a pale blue long-sleeve shirt. He then realized that Snape had a bit of towel in his hand, and had used that to touch the doorknob. The wet substance looked dark red on his hands.

Hermione's eyes saw the huge black cauldron in the middle of the room, surrounded by a ring of tables. Wooden crates were against the wall, and one table was piled with unmoving, furry animals. She narrowed her eyes and guessed they were dead rabbits.

Ignoring the materials, Harry next focused on the other person in the room. She was beautiful. Not overwhelmingly beautiful, but looked good. Her shoulder length brown hair had reddish highlights and shone nicely even in the poorer lighting here in a dungeon. She did not look as old as Snape.

"Huh," she said, looking them over. "You said there wouldn't be many."

Severus shrugged, and replied, "It was your idea," while he went back to dissecting the animals.

Harry grimaced at Snape's efficiency. To him, it was globs of flesh, but the professor was moving them into different piles, then dropping what was left into a barrel beside him.

"Okay," she said, letting the sound of the word be stretched out. She was not British. American or Canadian? Hermione hadn't mentioned either one. "Tonight I'm just going to see who's going to work with us. When you do magic with others, you can't just get a gang of witches and wizards together and hope for the best. You may have heard of a life or death situation where group magic was used, but you only hear from the ones that don't kill themselves.

"So I already know I can brew with Severus Snape, and his magic is the fluid sort so he can work with different people without causing a big reaction. It's the solid like rock magic sorts that need to be pieced together carefully."

Hermione put her hand up.

"What?" Caliginous asked.

"So if it's dangerous, is the benefit equally as great?"

"It's dangerous without setting up things properly. I'm an accomplished tandem brewer, but this brew has limited scope as to who can assist. Students, of your age, are ideal to find candidates. However, with both myself and your headmaster guiding the process, we'll sense when something's not working before it becomes disastrous."

Chambers pointed out, "But neither of you are our age. What qualifies you?"

"Actually, we need Severus Snape to make this work at all. He's the crux of this potion even being brewed at all, and it's a limited time event. I am also qualified to assist on this brew, whereas many of my associates would not be. It's tricky, therefore rare. With more magic added, we can increase the quantity and potency.

"The Extraordinary Society of Potioneers frowns on potions with varying strength because they like uniform results. Any member who is qualified to brew Pepper Up means that you will get the same results with Pepper Up every time you buy it. With a tandem brewed Pepper Up, you can have an extra strength version available, which is against their guidelines for potion uniformity."

"What is the potion being brewed?" Hermione asked. The use of rabbit parts was interesting, but it was a lot of dead rabbits. Prof. Snape was going through them quickly. It was disgusting how quickly he cut out whatever he needed then tossed it aside.

"I'd rather not say, but it's not a dark potion, poison or something like that." The potion recipe itself for this powerful conception potion was a secret, involving a pregnant hermaphrodite as a powerful focus, however she could not believe none of these brighter students had a clue that Severus was pregnant. He certainly looked different to her. "You are invited for the experience of tandem brewing with accomplished potioneers."

"I cannot work on something without knowing what it is," Hermione stated, folding her arms.

"Well, good bye," the woman answered with a wave towards the door.

Harry glanced at Snape. He was still cutting out bits of meat. He didn't think Snape pointed him or Hermione out as two people to get rid of. They weren't wearing their school cloaks, so there was no red lions on them either.

"Does Prof. McGonagall know what's going on down here?" Hermione demanded.

"Yes," Prof. Snape answered, stopping what he was doing. "Take it up with her, if you don't like it, Miss Granger."

"Any of the rest of you can go too," the potions mistress said. "I don't want to be bothered with a lot of questions, once we get started. It's going to be brewed overnight tomorrow. We should have all the ingredients prepped, and it will take hours. If you're frail, this isn't for you because there's parts where we're not going to be able to stop in the middle."

Chambers and a couple others nodded. With potions, at least the ones really worth brewing, there was specific timing involved.

She picked up a jar, and pulled out what looked like a thin, stick of wood. "Whoever's still a volunteer, we'll find out if you're able to match our flavor of magic by just putting one of these in your mouth."

Harry took one, wondering if there was something of Snape that was part of these things. At least it didn't taste like polyjuice potion.

His turned a very definite blue. Others also turned blue. Luna's turned pink.

When Caliginous waved the blues away, Hermione hissed at Harry, "Give me that."

"This?" he replied, holding up his stick.

"Yes, but don't go waving it around, or she'll take it back."

Harry handed it over. He did not want it, and did not know the first thing about trying to figure out what they were testing for. He did not know anything about doing magic with another person, and Prof. Slughorn and the lack of books in the library had made it clear that that's not something that was taught here.

"I'm going to see if I can get Prof. Snape to tell me something," Harry said, seeing the potions mistress was occupied with the three girls that had gotten pink results. Luna and two sixth year Hufflepuffs that Harry could not recall the names of were the lucky ones, or maybe unlucky ones.

Snape asked, "What, Potter?" before Harry even tried to get his attention. He kept slicing rabbits open and digging out bits, rather than giving him his full attention.

"Uh, I didn't pass the test."

"I would not have expected you to."

"Why? I mean … why?"

"There's complexity to this. Our magic is surely compatible."

"How do you know?"

Snape looked up at him, with his hair hanging over his face, and he suggested, "Think about it." He tossed his head to the side, getting the loose hair off his face, and added, "You really avoid that, don't you?"

"What?"

"Thinking."

"How can I think about this, when I don't know anything about it?"

Sighing, Snape replied, "You don't. There is also magic that is beyond what is taught here, and you know that. My hands are dirty at the moment."

"What?" Harry blurted out. Why was Snape changing the subject with something so stupid?

"I could demonstrate but it would mean touching you. By that I mean skin to skin, Potter."

"Oh. Oh, can't I touch you?" Harry knew he could think just fine, no matter how much Snape insulted him.

A black eyebrow arched as Snape's initial response, then he said, "If you're careful, you may, but be quick about it because I need to finish this early enough so I can rest."

Harry thought that was another odd thing for Snape to say because it was a terrible lie. He knew the professor prowled the castle at night.

Resisting the impulse to call Snape out on that, since he was a great liar, Harry asked, "Where, or how?"

"Since we have established you are not a thinker, try the heart."

"Huh?"

A look of mirth crossed Snape's face, and Harry quickly said, "I know you don't like me saying 'huh'."

"It is preferable than you making a wild guess, Potter." Snape tossed his current carcass in the barrel, and leaned forward, bracing his filthy hands on the table. Looking down a moment, he mentioned, "I have a clean patch in the middle." Looking back to Harry, he continued, "You could get a couple fingers between the buttons or undo that one. We could also wait. I imagine I'll survive tomorrow night as long as Prof. Slughorn does not get too ambitious in his pursuit of proving he is correct."

Harry could not tell from Snape's dry tone whether he was joking. He knew Slughorn had a thing against Snape at the moment, which did not make sense to Harry. Dumbledore chose Snape, and there was no way Slughorn could have done what Snape did to trick Voldemort all those years.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, this can wait."

"No, I mean about Slughorn?"

"He would not risk it."

Severus knew Slughorn would calculate who would likely be the next victim of this curse, and if it needed to be a current or former head of Slytherin house, then keeping Severus alive should be a top priority with Horace Slughorn.

"What are you up to?" Harry asked.

"That is usually the question I ask you, Potter. My answer is I am dissecting over a hundred rabbits. Once the number of brewers is known, arithmancy will be used to determine the exact quantity of ingredients that need to be used.

"I doubt that is what you want to know. What I suspect you want to know is why I am answering you, rather than threatening you with detention for asking questions. I am willing to show you some tandem magic simply because Granger will ferret something out, decide to try it, and you are the likeliest candidate for her to partner with because Weasley has trouble following directions, and her swotty attitude has no one else willing to put up with that try after try."

Harry's mouth dropped open, whether in shock because it was the truth or because Snape was insulting both Hermione and Ron, was what he was trying to decide.

Snape spoke more, "If you know what something successful feels like, you'll have a better idea of what a forced connection is, and suggest she find someone else."

"What makes you think that we're not a good match?"

"You may be," he replied, knowing that all three of them were headstrong. They only followed each other because they were afraid of missing a daring adventure. All three wanted to be the hero and leader, and there could not be three leads, or magic would not combine properly, besides being directed every which way.

Feeling like he should not be touching Snape, because it would be both weird and that his teacher was covered in blood and guts, Harry said, "Maybe I should wait. Do you need some help?"

"It depends. Did you want to take that almost full barrel down to Prof. Hagrid's home? Elves can do it, if you do not want to."

"You're giving me a choice?"

"This is not detention, and I'm certainly not offering a Gryffindor a chance to get points out of me."

"Hey, why aren't there any Slytherins here?"

"Perhaps they don't need extra points," was the reply as Snape pulled a new dead rabbit in front of himself and picked up his knife.

Since Snape said that the same way he offhandedly mentioned that Slughorn might kill him, Harry was not sure if Snape was taunting him. Slytherin was going to win the House Cup, but the least they could do was make it look like a competition since Draco was no longer here to be a total prat.

Actually, why was Snape being so nice? Harry was sure he was up to something. What, he had no idea, but it had to be huge because offering Harry unpoisoned curry must have been like a dagger twisting in his heart.

Playing along, Harry replied, "Sure, professor. I'll take this down to Hagrid, no problem. Is it okay to levitate that barrel in here?"

"Today it is."

"Alright, I'll take it as soon as I let Hermione know where I'm going, sir."

Of course, Harry Potter calling Severus Snape 'sir' willingly registered with Severus. What was Potter up to now? He had no hand in turning down Potter, Potter did not like potions, and he was under the impression that Potter liked Hagrid and his menagerie so could be trusted with the delivery to supplement their diet.


End file.
